There is word, and there is will. They both matter, yet mean nothing if not good.
My summer trip brought something I did not expect. Not the sunny weather, occasional muggy rain, or cool breezes that helped me tolerate the heat better. I was sitting down on a wooden park bench that was far from the center field. I listened to my favorite playlist while writing down notes for the upcoming school year. As I was going over what was needed and what I had to get done, there were two people within the area. Neither of which I knew of. Neither of whom I thought were going to make such a mark.
He was calmly sitting on a picnic blanket. She was standing over him, with her hands frustratedly resting on her hips. He stopped to look up at her every now and again. She became more irritated by the second. I tried not to look. But just from casting them a single glance, they seemed like they knew each other forever. There, my interest had risen. I kept my focus divided so they would not think I was being creepy. The unbothered man acted as if he could not care less if she stayed. She was not leaving until she was satisfied.
With what? I didn't know. I started coming to the same park bench everyday to figure that out. I put my headphones on, but I don't play any music. The same pair return to that very spot. One after the other. Together, or having some time in between arriving. The man was always calm and firm. She always had something to say. With her done up hair, her fancy clothing, and make up beautifully covering her face. Her voice grew louder. Her words sharper. Her attitude smug and prideful. He never responded quickly. He never once made a move to harm her. He listened. He understood. He waited. And when he did, when his turn came...she was left with nothing.
Nothing to say. Nothing to reply with. Nothing to truly justify herself. He threw her words back at her. He debunked every claim she had. He condemned not once. He bashed not once. The voice he possessed could soothe the most savage beast. She turned bright red. He didn't even laugh. He simply smoothed out his white T-shirt, and wiped his hands clean on his blue jeans. He bidded her good day. She watched him leave, utterly speechless.
There is word, and there is will. But, they will never matter if nothing good comes from them. That summer was not a summer. It was a live show. She is a quoter for validation. He is living representation. No entitlement. No perfection. Just a soul no longer feeling so lost. Days come. Days go. None the same. Except for chance. A chance to be what we weren't before.