A bench, what does a bench in a park do for someone without a home? Davison Jones is a man without a home, but he has a bench. No one is allowed to sit on this bench between twelve and four, because that is when Davison claims it. He has a system and he has a plan. He might be old, he might not be the cleanest, but he has a place he calls his. The park is not that large, is not that fancy. It has a tyre swing and a green plastic slide. It is a wooden jungle gym with a monkey bars and a pole to slide down. However, there are children and their mothers or nannies that come to this park in Davison's hours. The looks they give him breaks his hearts. Why can't they understand a man with nothing would just like to own one thing? Davison is feeling down today, he arrived at twelve and someone was on his bench, she looked very lovely, motherly of course. With a pram by her side and a toddler by her feet, but the fact remained she was on his bench. He could see she was looking at him, wondering what an beggar like him was doing near her and her children, but it wasn't them he wanted. He had a longing to feel safe, this bench was made of concrete and wood, yet it was the safest he ever felt curled up on it with a broken and torn blanket for cover.
Davison shuffled his feet a bit, wondering if he should wait it out. Surely the children would get hungry. He decided to leave, the looks she gave him were too much for his weathered old soul. The pain raw like an open wound from the look his eldest daughter gave him at the sight of the man she looked up to standing in rags, digging through her bin. Some would wonder how Davison got here, others would say it was his fault. Maybe it was his fault, maybe he wasn't enough for the life he once lived. A house, a car, a beautiful wife and three kids. A job he hated but tolerated and a boss he despised but worked hard for. Davison was a man of few words most of his life, he watched his world crumble a part one bright sunny day. It was supposed to be cold and raining, supposed to look how he felt, but instead the sun shone bright and the clouds made shapes. Or poof animals as his youngest liked to call it. He was left in an empty house he couldn't afford, his kids taken away and his wife with the boss he so despised.
Davison hates days when he can't be on the bench, he hates days when the loneliness hits him hard. Where he remembers the feel of his little girls hand in his, the way she looked up at him as a hero. When his son threw a rugby ball at him and they played for hours in the front yard. Now they thought he didn't want them, that he just disappeared. Yet he watched over them from a distance, he was always there even when they couldn't see him. He was still their father, he was still a husband to a woman who wanted someone else. He was not in a good place for his children to see him, he was not in a good place full stop. He has tried to get jobs but they all shook their heads and showed him the door. Six months turned into a year and now it was three, where he walked the streets with a trolley filled with other people's rubbish and a wallet filled with sand. It was almost three and he was getting antsy, he needed to get to his bench, he needed to feel safe. Davison walked back there and it was empty, a smile appeared on his face. Davison ran a hand along the length of it, took a deep breath and sat down right in the middle of it. The comfort he felt, the wholeness he felt. Some would just see an old bench but he saw a place to stay. There was a nice oak tree behind that gave him some shade from the sun. Davison took out his blanket, his son's baby blanket and threw it over his legs. He laid down on the bench and with a sigh of relief he closed his eyes. Shutting out a dark world into a world of dreams where he was still the man his family needed.
Davison awoke to someone shaking him, he looks up at a man in a business suit staring at him with disgust. "Sorry sir, but I am going to have to ask you to leave." Says the man. Davison sits up and sees a few men in suits and a contractor or two. "This is my bench." Answers Davison. "This is public property and as such, a man like you should not be here around young children." "A man like me? I did nothing wrong." Another man approaches the first. "Calvin just leave the guy, he only has a few days left here anyways." Answers the second. "A few days?" questions Davison. "We are demolishing this park and putting up a newer model, getting rid of the old." Smiles the man. "But you can't. This is my bench." Cries Davison. "Old man, there are many benches in the city, go choose another." Davison feels his eyes water, he doesn't want them to see his pain. Instead he gets up and walks away.
