A Stroll Around the Park

“Happy birthday, Sugar,” the man said.

“Why, thank you darlin’,” the woman replied.

The man bent his six-foot two frame to plant a quick kiss on the lips of his five-foot-eight wife. She accepted the kiss but then playfully slapped him on the upper arm.

“You old fool,” she teased, “you always tryin’ to steal a kiss from me.”

The man laughed heartily. “Woman, what you talkin’ ‘bout? I only been tryin’ to steal kisses from you since we was knee-high to a grasshopper!”

She grinned, a wide broad grin that crinkled her eyes with joy. He took her hand in his, careful not to squeeze too hard. His work-worn hands felt rough enough on her smooth, brown skin. He didn’t want to hurt the arthritis that had mauled her joints too early in life.

She rested her head briefly on his shoulder, content with the knowledge that she would always be safe with this man by her side. She sighed deeply and then stood up straight.

“Well, let’s go,” she said. Her voice was that of a woman on a mission.

“Honestly, Sugar, you gonna wear this old man out with these walks of yours,” he replied.

“They built this here ‘walkin’ trail’ just so folks could use it. You complainin’?” she asked.

“Of course not, my love. Of course not,” he said resignedly as he shook his head ever so slightly.

She looked admiringly at this husband of hers. Tall, darker than her, close-cropped hair, a body lean and muscular from long hours in the smithy. She loved surprising him at work, seeing his muscles rippling, body swathed in sweat from the heat of the fire. As they strolled she thought that those nights following her surprise visits may have just been the same nights she got pregnant with each of their five boys.

Her memories were interrupted by the sound of laughter. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “The children are here today!”

He rolled his eyes, not really in aggravation but because he knew what was coming next. 

“Come on,” she said, tugging at his arm.

“Sugar, those children gonna be here for a while. We ain’t got to go runnin’ over there,” he protested.

She continued to tug at his arm as he reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged along. “You knows I love watchin’ them!” she said impatiently. “They don’t come ever’ day. We gots to go NOW!” she insisted.

He matched his pace to hers as they walked across the broad area of freshly mown grass to where the playground area sported slides and swings and something called a “basketball court.” He wanted to visit friends they passed on the way, but she was in too big a hurry. When they arrived at their spot to watch the children, he took her around the waist and gave her a boost onto the branch of the oak tree that seemed to have grown just for them to sit on. He pulled himself up to his place beside her. The only place I ever wants to be, he thought.

He looked again at the basketball thingy and began to chuckle.

“What?” his wife said anxiously. “Did you see the children do something funny? What did I miss?”

“Nothin’,” he replied, “unless you can reads my mind now.”

She looked at him suspiciously with one eyebrow raised. “Since when have I NOT been able to read your mind?”

He cleared his throat. “Not that, woman,” he said. He pointed to the basketball pole. “Do you remember the night those two drunk boys came down here, right over there, and tried to have them a duel?”

She laughed heartily and loud. “Tried is right!” she sputtered between laughs.

He joined her laughter. “They was so drunk, they shot at each other SIX TIMES and missed EVERY single time!!”

They almost fell off the branch laughing so hard. As they finally began to catch their breath, she said, “All they ended up doin’ was knockin’ themselves over on their lily-white asses!” 

“Then,” he added, “they left here arm-in-arm, best of friends!!”

That started another round of knee-slapping, gut-busting laughter. At long last, they settled down, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly serious. “That sweet little punkin’ looks like she about ready to cry.”

They saw one of the little girls backing slowly away from the slide. Two other girls were snickering and making comments to her the couple could not hear, but it was obvious they were teasing her about something. She turned around and began walking in their direction.

“She comin’ this way,” he said.

“I ain’t blind, old man,” she retorted.

The young child took her time, kicking at dirt clods, turning back to the playground. She looked as if she was waiting for someone to miss her, to call her back to the group, but she was like a ghost, unseen and unheard. She turned back to the couple, dragging her feet. She stopped and picked a small flower growing at the edge of the sandy trail that bordered the grass-laden grounds.

“She sad,” the woman said, sitting up straight. “Should I…”

“No,” the man said, a bit more harshly than he intended and tightening his grip around her waist. “Just watch.”

The girl left the trail and wandered a bit around the lawn. She lifted her arms and pretended to fly. She twirled and danced to a tune only she could hear. She sat and held her arms like she cradled a baby there. The couple could hear her murmuring sweet things to her fantasy child. “It’s okay, baby. Mama loves you. It don’t matter what them mean girls said. You are loved.”

The woman smiled a sad smile. “Oh, look at her, honey,” she said. “She’s looking for comfort. Please, just let me go to her…”

The man turned her gently and put his hands on her shoulders. “No, Sugar,” he said. “She don’t know you. You will only scare her.”

The woman’s face was awash in the sympathy she felt for the child. She looked longingly at her, desiring more than anything to take her in her arms and whisper the words to her which the child murmured to herself.

“You right,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder once again.

He put his arm back around her waist and held her as they continued to watch the girl who could be their own daughter, or granddaughter, he thought. 

He suddenly straightened and said, “Hey! Isn’t she where them people had those noisy machines not too long ago? What did they call ‘em?”

“Ground-penetrating radar,” she said. “They was lookin’ for the graves.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “They finally figured out that Havana Square used to include a cemetery.”

“Miraflores Park,” she said. “They changed the name decades ago.”

“I like Havana Square better,” he said a little petulantly. “And I still don’t understand that statue.”

“It’s not exactly a statue,” she explained. “It’s a…a…bust!” she said proudly as she remembered the word. “It’s of some poet from down in…oh, shoot. Where was it?” she said, deflated that she couldn’t remember.

“Peru,” he said with just a hint of arrogance, proud that he could remember something she didn’t for a change.

She glared. “Don’t get cocky,” she warned.

He got a grin on his face that clearly conveyed a different meaning for the word than she intended. “Oh, you!” she said, pretending to be offended.

The little girl stood and began strolling toward them. “Shhh…” she said. “Here she comes.”

He started to say something, but she put her finger over his mouth. The little one, she figured the child was around four, approached the oak tree where they were sitting. She stopped right in front of them and stared up at the branch.

“Hello, sweetheart,” the woman cooed. “Don’t you pay no mind to them other girls. You is beautiful and kind. Nothin’ in this world is more important than kind.”

The little girl’s face shone with a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. She said nothing but waved bashfully before she turned and ran back to the other children.

“You reckon she heard me?” the woman asked.

“Sugar, we been dead for over a hundred years. They built a house on top of our restin’ place!” the man exclaimed. “If it hadn’t been for them boy scouts findin’ our bones in the crawlspace, no one would know any of us was here, much less use that," he paused, "ground penetrating radar to look for us.” He pointed to their friends scattered around the park. Some of the men wore overalls while others were in their suits. The women all sported long skirts and clean, fresh blouses. Their children played with the living children as though there were no veil between them. They were all well-cared for in death, even if their lives had been harsh. “Nope,” he said emphatically. “I don’t think she heard you.”

The woman wasn’t persuaded. She swung bare feet dangling below the black skirt reserved for Sunday morning services at Ephraim Pleasure’s Freewill Baptist Church. “She may not have heard me,” she said confidently, “but she felt my love.”