: an unlikely sanctuary :

A bus bench is hardly your typical refuge. To the well-adjusted, they’re a basic necessity, but not quite a full-fledged convenience. They’re unyielding and unforgiving with hard, sharp angles and don’t offer much protection from the elements — wind, rain, snow, blistering sunshine, frigid cold, chatty seatmates. There’s nothing plush or even restful about parking your weary self on thick wooden slats.

Unless you’re me. Then, yes, a bus bench is a miracle cure. There are many, many days when I seek its comfort. Not to catch the bus, mind you, but to sit and swing my feet like a six-year old. That one simple activity is a quick one-way trip to happy.

You see, I found one particular bench that’s been raised an additional eight inches off the ground thanks to tall concrete footings. Those eight lofty inches are all I need to lose contact with reality. I scoot my keister back as far as it will go, tip my toes upward, and let my feet dangle freely. It’s magic. I’m no longer a geezer beset with anxiety; I’m an arrested adolescent whiling away the afternoon. And I haven’t a care in the world. It is bliss.

Until I get up and my feet hit cold, hard ground once again. Pavement is harsh, both to my physical well-being and my mental health. Gravity, too. It operates like an undertow, locking me into an earthbound existence. I hate gravity. It’s a Chinese hoax, you know — like climate change. Fake news. Don’t fall for it.

Ha, get it? Fall for gravity? I’m hilarious.

In all seriousness, however, that bus bench is responsible for roughly 40% of my pondering. It works the same as a thinking cap, as an ‘on’ switch for ruminations. Or maybe it acts more like an antenna, picking up idea signals in the surrounding airwaves. Being located midway between hospital wings I would’ve expected to catch things, such as germs and viruses. But no, I’m the receiver of fun, often interesting, thoughts.

For example, this morning I found myself wondering: do Christian Scientists have medical insurance? I don’t know, but that seems like a pretty shrewd way to hedge a bet. You know, in case …

copyright © 2017 the whirly girl

20 thoughts on “: an unlikely sanctuary :

  1. Got to love a thinking spot with foot swinging space. Mine misses out on the foot space and fails on the bench front too. It does though sit on an old bridge looking out over a river. Perfect…except for when nutty strangers walking nearby Hadrian’s Wall start talking to me…

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      1. Everywhere I go, people talk to me – on trains, buses, in shops, graveyards. Not that I spend much time in graveyards. Not sure what signals a depressed introvert can send out to say ‘hey come and talk to me’ Somehow I do it though. A true skill.

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    1. The benches are pretty uniform here, as well. I’ve no idea why only one has a raised foundation, but it’s a great place to let your imagination run wild — in spring and summer. The winter will present a challenge; snow-covered is not comforting :o(

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  2. And swings as well although for some reason my tummy gets really squishy when I go really, really high and I think I’m going to fly. See, I turn into a 10 year old just by thinking about it.

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    1. I just wish I’d discovered it in May instead of September. Even so, a frozen butt will be a small price to pay this winter when I plant myself and remember those summer afternoons 😍


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