THE PARK

I had noticed him before, but not really paid him much attention. He was just another strange old man, like you see in parks all across the country. Anonymous to the general population who were so caught up in their own busy modern lives that it was all too easy for some of the less fortunate citizens to slip through the cracks unnoticed.

Sadly I acknowledged that I too would be counted in this group, carrying on with the usual humdrum of everyday existence without paying too much thought to the invisibles in our society. Yes, I would sometimes stop and throw down some loose change, but I wasn’t making a difference. Perhaps I even handed over my small tokens to appease my own guilt at a relatively comfortable lifestyle. But, if I’m honest, I hadn’t even spent time analysing my actions upon arriving home to my safe and warm four walls. I suppose it was very much a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind.’

There was something about him today though. Something that kept drawing my gaze back to this solitary figure as I jogged circuits of the park. I became aware of his eyes following me and even caught him staring occasionally.

Oddly, I didn’t feel uncomfortable, even though others may have thought it creepy. I just didn’t feel any threatening vibe from him. Sadness? Yes. Loneliness? Yes. Despair? Yes. Malevolence? No.

As I rounded the bend on my fourth lap I saw that he was gone. This threw me for a moment as I had felt a peculiar connection to him and it gave way to a strange sense of loss. But as I scanned the park I saw him again standing near the wrought iron gates at the entrance.

He held my gaze then slowly, almost indecipherably, beckoned me over.

It was still daylight and the park was fairly full of the usual mix of young mums with pushchairs, fellow joggers and dog walkers, so I made my way over cautiously, wondering why this sorry looking creature would want to speak with me.

Our eyes locked as I grew close and he falteringly started towards me. Nervous steps that suggested he would just as comfortably bolt in the other direction at any time. I noticed one solitary tear slip from the corner of his eye and leave a clear track down his filthy cheek. His hand was a tight fist, which he held out towards me. Tentatively he started to unclench it and revealed an old photograph that was faded along the creases where it had obviously been opened and re-folded many times over the years.

I took it from him and studied it. Then I really looked at him for the first time. Looked deep down past the unkempt and uncared for exterior to the man inside.

The old photograph of a young couple with their baby girl slipped from my grasp as my throat constricted.

“Dad?” I gasped.