From my vantage spot, I see a young girl call to her mother, running with her arms open. The woman does likewise and they collide with a force of love, so strong it brings tears rolling down my cheeks.
I wonder again, why I am here in the park. A place where women bring their children to play. A place where those same women meet friends, who also have children, and they catch up over their lattes. I watch from afar, on the park bench, with a book that occasionally I read, but mostly, I spy on those around me.
I’m not a bad person. I’m not stalking any of these women, or their children. I sit, invisible to them, in my pit of sadness and shame. Not so long ago, I thought I might get the chance to bring my own child here. You see, I was pregnant. I lost the baby. Seems so foolish, doesn’t it? I never deserved to have a baby, if I lost track of it, in-utero.
Afterwards, I lost everything. Brad left me, sold the house under my feet, and took the keys to our car. Nowhere to go. No-one to love. All because of ‘nature’s way’ – that’s what the doctors called it. The miscarriage. I call it loss of love, future and happiness.
So here I sit. Watching other people’s happiness all around me.
I am sad and lonely.