“Hell-o Mamma!” George thinks to himself. A young mother walking with her young daughter.
“Hmmm, I wonder how old?” he muses. “Thirty-two, thirty-three?” never a passing thought to the young girl whose hand she clutches.
Pretty. Dark eyes and an innocent smile, and a body… Again, the daughter becomes invisible. He ogles and ruminates and waits for the right MILF to come along. A perfect stranger takes the seat next to him.
“She IS perfect!” George inwardly notes.
Dark eyes and a curious smile. Pretty. Just like…
“Ahhh! That’s it. Over by the swings.” His attention diverts.
Always the man who notices the skirts and flirts (in his mind) but can never find someone to call his own. And as it always happens, he’ll be going home alone.
“The only empty seat under a tree” Georgette notices. “I hope he doesn’t mind.” she finds herself considerate of the dark haired stranger.
“May I?” she queries.
“Umhph, oh…yeah, sure” George replies distracted.
She scans the park. A serene place, here near the lake. Geese swimming. Bobbing and weaving in the ripples, making more. The elderly gentlemen playing checkers near the walk bridge, breaking the silence with an occasional argument…er, disagreement over a move. And there…
“How sweet” she thinks, “what a beautiful pair! She has her mother’s eyes and smile!”
She thinks about her life, and envisions herself as the mother. Loving, protective, playful… everything her daughter needs at that moment. A perfect place to do it.
“Hmmm, a stay at home mom, perhaps, or a well spent vacation day – the way I would spend it!”
And a wisp of sadness befalls Georgette. She was that mother briefly, in the anticipation of her full term blessing. A blessing turned to a curse. Complications never imagined. Never crossing her mind.
She sees George preoccupied by the couple engaged in their bonding ritual. The old man pounds a fist onto the board sending checker skittering off of the table. She sees her life in flux; indeed of a redux but not on the list of recipients. But, Georgette remains hopeful.
Living vicariously through that special union, accepting their tender smiles as signs that her time would come.
Georgette watches the mother and daughter continue on their way. No tears this time. She is more accepting. It was a good day.
He sees if there are anymore “flowers to pluck”.
She sees that her dreams are alive; a someday mother-to-be holding hope.