The Oak and the Bench

The tree swayed towards the bench, almost leaning over the top, and whispered just enough for the bench to hear, “How come you don’t move and sway? Are you going to get taller? 

Why do people sit on you and only seem to climb on me? It doesn’t seem very prestigious to be a bench. I am, however, a mighty oak with a great sway and prescience.”

The bench smiled, remembering now and the years gone by, the winter, the fall, the ice, crying, happiness, joy, sitting and watching, and even the occasional loneliness. “Still, I’m timeless,” it said proudly. “So I’ll rest here, waiting for those who need peace or a place in the universe. I will give them a place to think and stay for a few minutes. 

Mighty Oak replied, “It still feels like you should grow! It’s almost like your boards aren’t getting more significant.” 

The bench replied to the mighty Oak, “I don’t need to be any more significant for the pair of lovers, small families, or just someone who needs to stretch out in the sun for a few minutes, so I am as big as I ever need to be. It’s ok to be normal.”

The bench continued, “So I’m not going to get taller, I’m not going to move, I’m immovable, I’m counted on! I anchor this space. While you sway about, you might even potentially break with a great storm.”

“You, my great friend, are genuinely magnificent during the fall. But… between the winter, you are bleak and lonely. I am, however, still superb with a cloak of snow,” said the bench.

“I admire the view you get as a Mighty Oak some days,” murmured the bench. “The vista which you view must be magnificent. At the same time, my view remains at ground level. But there’s something to be said for being grounded to the earth. “Oh yes,” the Mighty Oak smirked. “I see far and wide; as you said, it is magnificent. The wind, however, does worry me from time to time. If I ever do fall on you, I apologize in advance. Unfortunately, those things do happen, as you know.”

The bench thought about this for a while. 

“I admire people’s ability to climb upon you to see further than themselves, see the distance, and see what lies above the horizon. I can only offer possibilities of hope, imagination, and a glimmer of what the future might bring,” the bench said to itself. 

“Humm,” the bench pondered, “many good points for us both.”  I thought for a few minutes. Each of them is thinking, sitting there, considering their thoughts, imagining their future.

The Oak had a nagging question. “Are you genuinely alive, bench?” It whispered. 

The bench laughed and smirked to itself. “Mighty Oak, I am so far from being dead. I may be stationary and not very mobile, but I am exciting and dynamic.” 

“Oak, it looks as if you never move. Oh, but I do; whenever someone sits upon me, dreams of the future, and moves towards it, I go with them. I’m an inspiration to what lies beyond the horizon they cannot yet see. I provide hope and happiness, and I console the lonely. I’m not always helpful, but I’m steadfast, and that’s often enough for me,” the bench said with a sideways grin. 

“But my dear mighty Oak, we know you are truly alive, but you don’t know when your life shall end. And when it does, what becomes of you?”

 “Perhaps, inside a building, something that props up another item, a sawhorse, or even something that is not even exposed to the outside or sunshine, which you will miss the most by far, my friend. Though your future might have endless possibilities, it contains a sense of dread and things gone wrong.”

“With all my heart, my swaying friend,” said the bench, “I hope none of those things happen to you. I hope in the deepest of my soul, with the greatest of my desire for you, that you too become a bench, an island in a storm, a place of peace, someone who can bring condolence, hug those who cry, and occasionally provides the chair for an odd squirrel or two.

“I hope you live a long time,” the bench refrains. “I adore my stationary life that many may see as dull but possesses endless possibilities and endless gifts to provide.”

“I guess the final answer, my great friend, though I’m not a mighty Oak. Or Sway! I am very live.”