Alibio

 Every morning and evening Sam Brighton walked through McArthur Park in his gray suit on his way to and from work. The park reminded him of some place from his childhood years ago. A memory planted in his mind that remained just out of his reach. Long ago he stopped trying to figure out what or where the memory was from, it was no use. He could have asked his mother, but trying to prod anything out of her from his childhood was like pulling teeth.

In the memories he had of the unknown park Sam saw his father, mother and himself sitting at a concrete picnic table, laughing and enjoying a beautiful summer day. Another memory was his father chasing him around enormous planters that were filled with purple and yellow marigolds while his mother watched and laughed. The sun had streamed its bright rays through the branches of the Crepe Myrtle onto the fresh green grass. In another memory they would ask a passerby to take a photo of all three of them while Sam stood on a round concrete bollard with his parents at his side.

Sam was not very sentimental about much; in fact he had no time to be sentimental about anything. He had no serious personal relationships because he worked entirely too much. His mother became cut off, almost catatonic after his father left which pretty much left him alone in the world from the age of six and pretty much filled his heart with hate toward his father. He put himself through college, completely on his own and spent much of his college years making sure his mother didn’t drink herself to death. The only thing that he found he looked forward to in his life anymore was walking through the park past the pink roses and red azaleas that bloomed bright and beautifully.

Every morning Sam noticed the same homeless man perched on a concrete bollard, watching him as he passed. Every time Sam passed by the man mumbled the same words, “I knew you from a long, long time ago.” Sam rolled his eyes in disgust and walked on.

Had the man been there before? Sam wondered. He had never noticed the homeless man on any of his previous treks through the park. But who ever noticed homeless people?

Sam stomped up the concrete steps to his office and chunked his water bottle in the recycle can. As he made his way into his office he instructed his secretary to call the police and inform them of the homeless man who sat on the concrete bollard in McArthur Park every day beside the giant planters filled with red azaleas. Several times after Sam had his secretary call the police on the homeless man, but to no avail. Every day the same homeless man sat on the round concrete bollard in McArthur Park by the giant planter filled with red azaleas. No one would disturb his morning walk, the one and only thing he looked forward to every day.

That day Sam decided to take his lunch out to McArthur Park and eat at one of the concrete picnic tables. He grabbed his brown paper bag and headed out the front doors of his office building, pass the recycling containers and down the steps to the park.

Sam sat his paper bag on the concrete picnic table, opened his sandwich and began to eat. The day was sunny and beautiful. Rays of sunshine beamed down through the tree branches, casting light over the bright green grass and the planters. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as what little memories he could conjure up came back.

Sam’s thoughts were broken as these words pierced his lovely silence, “I knew you a long, long time ago.”

Sam opened his eyes and found the same homeless man sitting on the concrete bollard near the planter filled with red azaleas. Angrily, he jumped from his spot at the concrete picnic table, tossed his lunch in the recycling container and stormed to the homeless man’s side.

“Every day I walk through this park and every day you say the same thing!”

The man looked at him in pure curiosity.

Sam went on, “You’re a leech on our society. You sit there, begging for money every day while good people go out and work for a living!”

Sam turned to storm away, but stopped when the man responded.

“Do you have any memories of this park, son?”

Sam turned around stunned by the man who sat on the concrete bollard.

“You see, I use to come here every Saturday with my son. But he went away years ago. We would chase each other around the enormous planters filled with marigolds and around the concrete picnic table where his mother sat laughing.”

Sam stared, flabbergasted and waited for the man’s next words.

“His mother took him away from me years ago. So every day I come to this park and wait on this concrete bollard where we once took a family photo, hoping he would return.”

Tears slipped down Sam’s cheeks as the memory of his father came to him. How could he have not seen it? Every day he had walked past this man on the concrete bollard near the giant planter and viewed him as nothing but a nuisance and treated him as though he was not worth acknowledging.

Every day we run our every day lives like we are too busy to notice someone that might be in need of our help. We assume things when we take that first glimpse of someone. If they look unkempt or are homeless we think, “get a job” or “what a drain”. We never stop to think about the stories that go behind every human being, like this one and the concrete bollard.