In the Park

Creativity Boot Camp
Day 2
Topic: Picnic

Mandy felt a little strange packing a picnic for one, but it was such a beautiful day out that she didn’t want to waste it. She sliced strawberries and peaches, made a sandwich, and brewed herself some tea. When she was finished creating her meal, she placed it all in a large, brown wicker basket lined with red and white gingham. A picnic wasn’t a picnic without that basket. Her grandmother had given it to her when she was a little girl, and she often staged elaborate tea parties on the front lawn, carrying her wares out to her porcelain-doll “guests” in the picnic basket. Back then, it had been a little difficult to carry, since it was nearly as big as Mandy. Now it fit comfortably in her hands, although she still felt like a little girl whenever she used it.

Mandy grabbed the picnic basket and carried it out to her bicycle, where she attached it to a rack on the back. She suddenly felt very silly, all dressed up in her white floral print sundress, getting ready for a picnic at the park. It was definitely cliché, but not something people ever actually did. Mandy liked to do things differently from other people whenever she could. It got her in trouble sometimes, but mostly it was innocent fun. It made her sublimely happy.
The perfect summer day also made Mandy happy. The sun was high and bright, and the air was just the right temperature. She lifted her sunglass-clad face to the sky and felt the warm rays touch her skin. A breeze carried the scent of newly bloomed roses and smoky charcoal grills. Right then, it felt amazing just to be alive to enjoy the day. Mandy smiled to herself and climbed on her bike.

Arbor Park was only a short bicycle ride away from the old Victorian house where Mandy’s apartment was. She rode her bike here every chance she could get; at least four times a week. She loved to sit in the grass between the towering maples and oaks, watching people as they chased their children or walked their dogs. Even though she liked to be different from other people, she still had an affinity for society; watching the way people interacted was always intriguing to her. There was amazing insight to be gleaned from passively observing the world. And it was even more amazing to do it in the warm sunshine, sprawled across her favorite yellow quilt.

It seemed to Mandy that the scenery of the park changed every day. Most of the people did the same sorts of things—throwing a Frisbee, playing tag, reading a book on a park bench—but she rarely saw the same people. There were always new people to observe; even when they were doing different things, each person’s individual nuances were unique. Once, Mandy spent an entire week observing different people as they read in the park. Some curled up on the bench, as if they were on a couch; some crossed their legs stiffly and glanced occasionally over the tops of their books. Each person she watched had a new movement or facial expression that captivated Mandy.

Of course, there were also other “regulars” at the park, people Mandy could always expect to see there: the old man with the coke-bottle glasses who always seemed to be looking for something, and the young woman with two children whom looked like twins. There was one regular park patron that Mandy found exceptionally interesting, and he happened to be in the park today. He was a young man who looked to be about the same age as Mandy. He was tall, thin, and a little bit awkward, but Mandy still thought he was handsome. He always sat in the same spot, strumming an acoustic guitar.

When Mandy had first seen the man in the park, she had figured he was there for attention. Often, girls would stop for a few moments and watch him play, twirling their hair around their fingers and giggling. Mandy assumed that sort of attention was what brought the man here.

Over time, she started realizing that her initial assumption was very wrong. She noticed he always picked the same spot to sit, and it was a fairly secluded spot, almost entirely surrounded by shrubs. And he never acknowledged the giggly girls that stopped to watch him play. He would sit, totally engrossed in his music, often closing his eyes and matching his facial gestures to the notes he played.
She didn’t know his name, and hadn’t had the courage to ask, so she called him Toby. She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to name the stranger in the park; she hadn’t named the old man or the woman or the twins. Mandy thought maybe it was because he played music, and she was also a musician. It made her feel like they had something in common. And there was also the fact that she found him attractive.
In fact, to be quite honest, Mandy had a little bit of a crush on “Toby.” She was always sad if he wasn’t in the park, and in her deepest quiet thoughts she would sometimes imagine having amazing conversations with him. He seemed to be just as interested in being different as Mandy was. At least, she liked to imagine he did, based on his indifference to attention and her internal decision that they were soul mates.

On this day, Mandy heard “Toby” playing before she even saw him, and her chest swelled with excitement. She didn’t think anything could possibly make this day more perfect. Beautiful weather, a lovely picnic, and a chance to watch “Toby” as he strummed his guitar. She sighed happily as a wide smile spread across her face. Her green eyes sparkled in the bright afternoon sunshine.

Mandy chose a spot for her old, yellow quilt and laid her wicker basket down on it. Today she chose a spot much closer to “Toby’s” alcove than she normally did. The song he was playing matched her mood perfectly, and she wanted to be close enough to listen. Although it was no surprise, she was a little sad when he didn’t look up from his guitar when she sat down. In her imagination, he’d see how different she was from the other girls who stopped to watch him play. But he treated her no differently. He simply continued to play.

Sitting there on her old yellow quilt with her picnic lunch, Mandy found herself almost as engrossed in “Toby’s” song as he seemed to be. She lost herself in the gently lilting phrases. They made her think of flying kites near the ocean. She could almost smell the salt in the air. A small, nagging voice in the back of her mind was trying to talk to her, but she ignored it. She continued to enjoy the sensation of salty sea air in her face, the guitar’s chords rolling over her like waves. But the nagging voice continued to poke at her, and her concentration was broken. At first, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but then she realized what it was. She was being watched.

Mandy looked up abruptly and was greeted by “Toby’s” bright hazel eyes. He was watching her intently, but he didn’t miss a single note of the song he was playing. The rest of his body continued to sway and move with the music, but his eyes stayed locked on hers. When she realized he was looking at her, she jumped, spilling her tea down the front of her dress. She felt the skin on her face growing hot as she blushed.

At that moment, Mandy wished she could be anywhere else. She wanted to run away, but that was fairly impractical; she couldn’t just leave all of her stuff in the middle of the park. Besides, she didn’t think she needed to look any crazier just then. Her embarrassment overcame her logic, however, and she quickly got up from her blanket, hastily shoving her belongings back in to her wicker picnic basket. That was when “Toby” stopped playing his song.

“Ah, don’t go! It’s nice to have such an attentive audience,” he said, smiling genuinely and catching Mandy’s eyes with his. He set his guitar aside and strode over to Mandy’s quilt. Mandy watched him come toward her, not quite sure if she was awake or dreaming. After a second thought, she was sure she was awake. None of her dreams about “Toby” had gone like this. Usually she was witty and charming and incredibly interesting. Right now, she was a slack-jawed, tea-stained oddity. This was most definitely real.

“Toby” sat down on Mandy’s quilt, not bothering to wait for an invitation. He opened the lid to the wicker picnic basket and glanced inside. “What’s for lunch?” he asked with a wide grin on his face.

Like an Elephant's Tusks

Creativity Boot Camp- Day One

Topic: Ivory

Mandy sat in the window seat looking out at the early morning rain. The world looked like a washed-out version of itself, as if the constant spring downpour had washed away the colors, like the slow erosion of paint on the side of a barn. She hummed softly as drops of rain chased each other down the window pane.
The world inside Mandy’s mind was, just then, more brilliant and bright than any sunny day had ever been. She was composing a cheerful melody. As the notes bounced soundlessly through the green eyes of her mind, she imagined what they would feel like if they were real. Warm, she thought, like rocks on a sunny day. And like love.
She wondered what she meant by that. There was an unexpected pause in her internal symphony, and then a bridge led in to a totally different tune. She saw love then, and it looked like Caleb: tall and awkward with his wide smile and light brown hair. Her heart smiled and she hummed on, enjoying the new key her wandering mind had chosen.
After a few more silent moments of imagining him and humming her song, Mandy stood up from her resting spot. She glanced once more at the washed-out world outside the window and walked across the room to her piano.
The piano was old and worn. It had been her grandfather’s, and Mandy had rescued it when he passed away. Her grandmother wanted to throw it out; it wouldn’t stay in tune and half of the keys were chipped and dull. But Mandy loved the slightly off-key sound of that old piano, and her fingers relished in every chip and crack of the ivory keys. They made her think of real ivory. Not shiny and polished like some illegally imported trinket, but chipped and dirty and well-used, like the tusks of an elephant.
Mandy opened the lid of the little upright piano, exposing the tired keys. She lovingly caressed them, recognizing the distinct character of every one of them with her fingertips. This was the piano she learned to play on, and it would always have a special place in her heart.
Her thoughts drifted back to Caleb just then. He, too, had a special place in her heart that time would not diminish. There were certain things about him like the cracks on the piano keys—little idiosyncrasies she knew so well—that made him forever dear to her. Although she had many times tried to set aside her memories of him, she could not. She held on to him as steadfastly as she did the piano.
Mandy took a deep breath and pressed her fingers down on to the keys, playing the first chord of her song. The piano reluctantly sounded the notes, sighing slightly as it did so. The discordant sound of the old instrument was comforting to Mandy’s ears, and she smiled to herself. Music never sounded quite so sweet on any other piano.