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I sat down quietly on the wooden bench. It was an empty one, far away from the busy section of the park, a deliberate decision. It was my first time there. I watched the kids play with kites and paper planes. Some were dangling to and fro on the swing. Two toddlers were trying to seesaw on the paint-ridden metal cantilever, their moms helping them balance. They giggled and exposed their fallen front teeth. Life could never be full of sadness, I told myself.

Somehow, their joy almost lit up a candle in my dense soul. My stare drifted to the teenage girls in skimpy skirts, taking turns to skip ropes. Their dexterity caught my attention; perfect timing, sufficient clearance–it was admirable. But my attention couldn’t be caught up so long. The memories I wanted to burry were difficult to trick with flimsy distractions. My heart was in plague, it was drowning me. I could feel the heaviness rising, taking the form of invisibility. Life couldn’t be full of sadness, I tried to believe.

I looked again in the direction of the seesaw kids. They were gone, now seated with their parents and family on the tender meadow, forming a circle round baskets of food and fruits. I saw joy in their laugher, I saw happiness. Life couldn’t be full of sadness, I wanted to believe.
“Hello, that’s my usual seat,” a voice from behind said. There was something about it– there was everything about it. It carried a note of tenderness and innocence. Being compelled to behold the bearer, I turned...

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