One of them now

I can feel their stares, even through my jacket. But hey! I'm used to it. Funny thing is, I really can't be bothered anymore. I can tell they feel uncomfortable as they walk past me, and I watch as they skirt round my bench, but I just don't care. 1

I used to. I used to strut around town, wearing the best the charity shops can offer. I used to love to browse through the shops, eying expensive things, even though I knew I couldn't have them.2

But that all changed when mum died. I came here, to the park, more and more. This is my bench now. I am, officially, one of THEM. I don't need to be. I'm poor, but not destitute. I could go home now, and be warm, if I wanted. I could be with my husband. But this is my solitude, my place. Oh yes, I love my husband. But I like it here. It may be cold, I may look like a beggar, but I like it here. 3

The children will come out of school soon, and Mona and Charlie will come rushing over, begging for sweets. And I will take them home, and give them tea, and put them to bed. Life is sometimes more simple than it looks.4