Life at the Lamp Post

I sit at the corner of Cherry Tree Lane and 5th Avenue. I'm an old and outdated lamp, but the city likes my charm. So while keeping my rustic look, they gave me a modern twist. I now come on at the same time as all the new fancy street lights.

They put a nice bench and a pretty flower bed next to me. A beautiful place to rest, a place to watch the business of 5th Avenue as people run from meeting to meeting or fight over parking spaces.

Or you can enjoy the peace of Cherry Tree Lane. Where moms take their children for walks, where young love takes its first late-night stroll. Or the love of someone who has long been gone sits and feeds birds.

I'm sure there are some whom I have watched go from being pushed in a stroller down Cherry Tree Lane, to rushing along 5th Avenue, to holding young love's hand, to mourning the loss of that love.

Many have found shelter, safety and solace under my light, sleeping on my bench. I've heard many fights at my bench, but I've only seen a few resolved. I've seen men get down on one knee, and happy tears flow. I've seen little kids bring their moms a bouquet of flowers and weeds; I'm always amazed at a mother's patience.

My bench has been a place where tears have been shed by those coming off 5th Avenue. Their briefcases get tossed against the ground, and folks even hit or grab my post. I don't mind; I know they are just trying to calm down. Sometimes they call a friend and go grab a drink, or they call their moms and simply cry. Sometimes the ones who come the most distraught have the brightest ideas.

I've seen some too young run from home. They always race down Cherry Tree Lane, only to reach the corner of 5th Avenue and have no idea where they are going. Or what to do. So they sit on my bench under my light and wait. Wait for parents or a policeman to come and find them.

People stop and take photos for their grads, weddings, or just because. They all marvel at my charm, and yet…

So many people walk right by me and never notice me. I see them, watch their stories unfold, hear them laugh, listen to them cry and wish I could do something more.

But all I do is light their way and give them a place to rest, a place to go, a place to start, a place to ask big questions, a place to meet. I'll always be here, a space for them to come.