For seventy-one years, the bench had sat in the same place. His perch on the hill provided a view of a pristine field with a small stream flowing gracefully through it. Across the field sat another hill. Atop the hill sat the bench’s best friend; a mighty oak tree. While the bench had been at his post for seventy-one years, the tree had been growing for one-hundred-and-fifty years. For thirty-two years the tree grew alone. He dreamed of having a friend to share his thoughts with, but for thirty-two years he sat alone. The day the bench was built across the stream inside of the park lines went something like this.
“…hey bench.”
“Hello?” It was the benches first word.
“How’re you?”
“Sore.” The bench stretched its frame, trying to break it in.
The bench and the tree spent seventy-one years together. The tree was like the bench’s father. He taught him many things during his first thirty-two years, but the tree learned just as much from the bench. One brisk spring morning, a group of humans were gathering around the tree.
“What are they doing to you, Tree?”
“Probably just another team of scientists studying trees.”
The companions spent two days wondering what the humans were doing to Tree. On the third day, the humans returned.
“Looks like the scientists brought some science equipment this time,” said Bench.
“It would appear so.”
Bench fell asleep as the scientists conducted their experiments on Tree. They sure were loud. The Bench had never learned something and not shared it with Tree. Upon waking, he did just that. For seventy-one years they had learned many things. But in seventy-one years, Bench had never learned of lumber jacks. Tree would never know either.
