A simple table. No flash, no eloquent design or manufacture; just a simple metal table, one of hundreds in the busy park.
The old man sat still, save the occasional movement of his left arm extending to grab the coffee cup that gradually cooled on the table beside him or the reshuffling of his feet extending on the chair in front of him or in the sandy gravel below him.
The rays from the spring sun warmed his tired skin as he watched the passersby and general park happenings behind the dark frames of his old Ray-Ban Clubmasters. It was clearly the first day of its kind after a long and arduous winter. The performers were out in full force, entertaining the tourists and young children; the only visitors that were truly inspired to watch them. Various faces sat at the tables, eating their lunches, drinking their iced coffees and teas, and simply enjoying the generous and welcoming weather.
His seasoned eyes casually wandered around the park, like many of the visitors, but they frequently returned, albeit briefly, to the one table in front of him.
To the casual park pedestrian, it was just a table. It was not in a particularly desirable spot in the park; one that supplied ample amounts of shade and sun and allowed the cool ,goosebump raising breeze to lightly brush ones skin . Not to say that it was in a poor location either; for it was simply one of the many that lined the sandy gravel pathways. On this day it offered good sunlight and the smell of fresh grass that only could be found in the springtime in a city.
Its value was in its normality. The old man often drew his gaze upon the table to observe the assortment of park-goers that, perhaps bound together by the twines of predetermination and chance, pulled out one of the three chairs and sat down at this particular table, rather than one of the many other vacated ones.
He spent several hours there, partially because of the beautiful weather and people, but more so because there was nothing better for an old man to do. Altogether, he observed ten different sets of people, including some individuals, and about four groups of pigeons surround the table. He did not stare at them, observe them intently, nor did he make any assumptions or judgments about them. He merely observed them and considered fate.
The first group of two had already been seated when the old man sat himself down at his very similar looking table. Two young and lively young men. A couple; the old man deducted from their interactions and conversation. He didnt have to eavesdrop to hear what they were saying; one was much louder than the other and projected his voice enough to mindlessly share his exploits and analysis with those within an earshot of the table. They discussed different photo-shoots they were working on or had scheduled as well as some personal details about their individual and coupled lives that were not of note. They finished their salads from the park caf and disappeared while the old mans eyes and attention were fixated elsewhere.
A pretty young short haired brunette in her late twenties dressed professionally arrived only a few minutes later. She placed down her plastic container of various vegetables, also from the caf, and pulled out a well-loved and worn book from her canvas tote bag/purse. Fitzgerald. As she read the masterful shorts of F. Scott, she would sip her iced coffee, an indisputable sign of the springing spring weather, and devoured the colorful contents of the container rather hastily. Her expression would subtly change with each sentence, and the old man admired her, thinking it rare to see a person in her godforsaken generation appreciate good literature. Within 20 minutes she finished her hurried lunch and packed up her things.
A dark-haired man with an olive complexion, sporting a light grey suit and well maintained scruff came next. He came bearing a sandwich and was talking into those white headphones that the old man always saw everyone wearing about business things that the old man did not understand and could not comprehend. Moments later a man who shared the same characteristics, only with a different face and different colored shirt, joined his colleague at the table. They discussed the same business-speak that the old man did not understand and did not attract his attention for all too long. Across the park, the carousel revolved at a consistent rate, pausing every few minutes for another group of children and children-at-hearts to select their beast to tame. Jugglers entertained a small crowd. A man seemed to be holding forth, preaching or lecturing to a group of curious on-lookers. The two men in the light grey suits argued politely about their business and then went their separate ways.
The park was increasingly busy now, for the lunch hour was in full swing.
More businessfolk arrived with their food in hand, this time a foursome consisting of 3 men and a woman who could more than hold her own with these fast-talking and experienced pioneers of the business world that the old man conceded he would never understand and therefore never care about.
A middle aged couple speaking French strolled over next. The old man spoke a little in his former life and could somewhat follow their conversation. Where should we go after this, they said, What magnificent architecture, Let me look at the pictures youve taken so far. These two seemed to appreciate the fair weather much more than the two groups that preceded them, as they sipped their drinks and took in deep breaths of fresh air that had evaded them elsewhere in the city. While the woman sat peacefully, the man got up and began taking photos of people, plants, and scenery with what looked like an expensive camera. They left after about 30 minutes or so to go continue to be tourists.
A mother with her babe in arms sat down to relax and drink iced tea.
A group of students from the nearby university sat down but didnt engage in conversation. They sat silent, except for the chewing of their food and slurping of their sodas, while scrolling the magical mobile phones that the old man did not care to ever learn about.
Two Hasidic Jewish men, one older than the other by a good twenty years sat down to have a discussion. A pigeon flew in and tried to join them, but they shooed it away, for this was private discussion not meant for birds.
A young man politely dressed in a plaid, button down shirt tucked into slightly faded jeans, and in his mid-twenties. He looked to be waiting for someone. He had a short and thin beard and wore thick framed glasses under a faded Yankees cap. His head, and sometimes his entire upper body, kept turning every few moments rather anxiously while his worn desert boots bounced in the sandy gravel, eagerly anticipating his guests arrival. An equally young and beautiful woman, the details of her face somewhat hidden behind her large fashion sunglasses, approached. Relief shone through the young man as he rose from the chair and hugged her passionately. They kissed and walked away cheerfully, hands held tightly. The old man smiled, and was reminded of when he was a young man and met with his once and only true love at that very table. For the old man, this is why this particular table was unlike the others; it was a memory. Perhaps it was not the same exact set of table and chairs that were in that same spot 50 years prior, in fact that is unquestionably doubtful. However, the significance of the placement of a table and chairs in that spot remained the same.
As he smiled and gazed pensively at the art deco architecture that proudly loomed over the park, a sight that would have been nearly the same 50 years ago, an old man with the same shade of silver in his hair sat down at the table, his eyes casually focused on a table under a tree next to a statue some twenty feet away. This old man smiled at the couple that sat lovingly around that simple table, a table that looked like every other.
Simple, bland park tables and chairs; all designed and manufactured the same. Insignificant to the passerby, but not to the individual. Each table is rich in memory; memories of meals shared or ideas discussed. Of meetings planned and hellos and goodbyes exchanged. Simple tables in a charming park, seemingly irrelevant but remarkably meaningful. The old mans focus and interest was no longer on the table, and his mind wandered to others, thinking about each ones past and present, and he smiled.