It was a hot August day, and I was free to do as I wished. So, as usual, I headed for Lincoln Park. The park stretched for miles along Chicago's lake front, and generally was not too crowded during weekdays. I liked being alone letting my imagination run free.

On this day, the first of this memory, I was being a guesser. I walked past my favorite places: the quiet lagoon with its gentle curves and tempting sounds, the old bridge over the lagoon, and its rusting filigree supports, the island that "no-one" but myself knew about, the old tree, its 3 thick trunks swooping way up into a riot of chattering sparrow and hungry pigeons. I was guessing who everyone was that I passed. I confided in the inanimate objects around me (as probably only an only child can do) just what the world was all about.

Passing through the zoo I had spotted an old man, ragged, smelling, lurching, and I changed my course. He frightened me and I was afraid he might stumble into me and then what would I do? I couldn't stand being embarrassed. I went around another path, headed for the old rusting bridge and leaning over the lagoon water, looked at my own wiggly reflection and wondered who he had been. I tried to imagine him in his mother's arms, still a tiny baby, I pretended to be gazing off into the far distance, but really was sneaking a peek, at the old drunk. He was gone however, so I looked back into the brown water. A reflection passed behind me, and tinting I saw a boy and girl, much older than me, arms wrapped around each other. I guessed he was the son of a rich man and she was a poor girl, fascinated by his money and worldly ways I wondered why it didn't brother them to be seen kissing and hugging in public.

 

Heading for a bench to sit on (the ants, flies and mosquitoes in the grass tickled my legs and I didn't like it), I looked for an unoccupied one. A bench was empty, so I sat, scrunched down so my head could rest on the back, and studied the sky. I decided to dissolve some clouds. Had done it for years. The way you dissolve a cloud is to look hard at a small one and keep on concentrating on it. You can blink, and even look away for a second or so, but your mind must be on that cloud. Soon it will begin to break up. Keep on concentrating and looking hard--and before you know it, it will be gone!

 

I had almost totally eliminated my first cloud, when I felt a slight vibration through the wooden bench. I turned my head sideways and discovered an older woman settling herself down to read. She was old enough to be my mother, and then some. She must have been 25

or 30. In spite of that she looked okay, so I didn't get up. I just Went back to wiping out some more clouds.

 

My days were spent in or near the park, and I very frequently wound up near that bench. The coldest Water fountain was light there, as was the lagoon, and some of my favorite hills, trees and hiding places. I gradually noticed that the woman was there almost as often as I, She never paid any attention to me, didn't even seem to notice me. She just read things, sometimes wrote letters, sometimes looked at or fed the squirrels. So I began to play guesser about her. She was kind-of short, had brown hair combed straight back off her face and short.

 

She always wore straight skirts and tailored blouses and loafers. So I guessed she was a woman very interested in some sport, and she had had a terrible accident which sort of crippled her, and she had been told by her doctor to stay outdoors a lot and get lots of sunshine and fresh air. I then guessed that she had been very famous and I should be noticed by her. Being quiet and a loner, I'd never go talk to her though, so I just stayed around.

 

It paid off a bit, because once I was running past (showing off) and went faster than my legs could co-ordinate, and I fell. I slid a bit before stopping and did a great job of scraping both knees. They hurt and began to bleed and I felt like crying. So I made it to that cold water fountain and alternately hung one leg, then the other over it to wash the dirt out and stop the bleeding. I also dripped a lot of quiet tears into the water. Then, there she was. Her hands were soft and gentle and she had a clean handkerchief that she was getting wet and carefully dabbing at my knees. I flinched, expecting pain, but she touched her fingers to my cheek and smiled. I knew then she wouldn't hurt me and I relaxed. After a few minutes she handed me the handkerchief, wrung out and told me to fold it and press it firmly against the cuts. Then she went back to her books. I did as she said and soon I was sort of alright again. 1 gave her back her handkerchief and said thank you. Now as I think about it, it was a dumb thing to do--what would she want with an old, slightly bloody, slightly wet handkerchief. She smiled though, and chopped her eyes to her book.

 

I saw her lots after that but never said anything to her. I did look her straight in the eyes when I saw her and tried to look nice, and she always smiled, but we never spoke. For a long time that is.

 

One day she was there with someone. It was another woman about her age, dressed sort of like her. (Gosh, I guessed, another sick athlete!) They talked and talked, but I stayed out of hearing range. Then I saw them holding hands! WOW! That was strange. Hut maybe they were sisters. I went on talking to a pigeon I'd found, and later looked tuck and saw them standing but going nowhere, her books still on the bench. Just as I was going to turn around, I saw the two look about them (no one was around) and then they kissed! right on the lips. These weren't sisters. The strange one walked away and my friend just stood there looking after her. I admit I was rude, but I just stood there too and stared, big-eyed. Then when the strange one was out of sight (she didn't turn back at all) my friend sat down and stared at the sidewalk in front of her. I pretended to accidentally walk that way, but I purposely had to get closer. She was crying! Gosh. I went home.

I thought I'd never see her again, but she was there just as usual, almost every time I went to the park.

 

The way we finally got to say something was, I was seeing how many one-footed hops it took to cross the bridge when this guy stopped me. He was a man about 20, I guess. He said he had seen me in the park a lot. I nodded. He flashed a badge and said he represented the F.B.I. and they needed some junior agents. He said that because I was always in the park I could be one if I wanted. I WANTED. So he said all I had to do was keep my eye out for men who bothered kids. If I saw any I should tell him, as he'd be around, and they'd arrest the man. I wouldn't get any pay, but look how helpful I'd be for my country, and the park.

 

I was thrilled! I immediately saw myself as the most effective F.B.I. agent ever.

 

So I watched. For weeks I suspected every male who happened to glance at me. Every day I met the F.B.I. man and we sat on a bench and talked. Even though I had nothing to tell him, I went completely through my dark suspicions of this or that guy. The Woman was always near by, always reading, always alone. I wondered if she had and idea just how important I was. Then to really make it great, one day as he was talking to me, he picked up one of my braids and said something about how thick it was and how pretty. My hair to me was hair. It got messed, and dirty, and had to be taken care of, and was just, hair. Yet this real man of the world thought it was pretty. Well!

Some more days passed and as we talked on the bench again, he playfully wrapped the braid across my shoulders and made some dumb comment about not needing clothes with hair like that, He was close and was looking funny. I got a little worried, but put it out of my mind, as he was a government representative and could be trusted.

 

The next day he came rushing towards me and grabbed me to him and out of breath said, "Did you see him? Did he bother you? You poor kid." No one had bothered me and I didn't know what he meant. But he was squashing me against him, and he had this funny warm lump just below his stomach and he began rubbing it against me. Now I knew a little about life. I mean a 10 year old isn't totally stupid, and I had an idea that something was going on that shouldn't, and now I was scared. Here's this big jerk sticking his fingers in my hair, and bumping the daylights out of his stomach, or something, and there I was. I was afraid to move or talk or anything. I just stood there feeling awful. Then SHE hurried into my sight. Our eyes met for a second, and I guess she saw I was scared. She yelled something at the F.B.I. guy and he whirled around surprised. She jabbed him a few times in that soft bulge, and it went away. Then she yelled some more and chased him away and I remember one thing, she told him I was her daughter and he better not show up anymore around here. Gosh she was brave, I thought.

 

Then she circled me in her arms and held me, talking soft and comforting me, easing the scare out, until I relaxed. Then I started to sob and she steered me towards the bench. We sat and she continued soothing me. She smelled sweet and clean and made me feel just as sweet and clean. I asked her why she said I was her daughter.

 

Her answer didn't mean much to me then. I just felt that she did it because she wanted to.

 

But now I am the age she was then, and as I sit here beside the woman I love, I know the love that my "park" friend felt. The gentle concern of a lonely woman for a lonely kid. I feel her determination, imagine her needs, her pride in her sex, and her knowledge of the rottenness that exist.

 

I didn't see her much after that. I sort of stayed away from the park because of him. Now I thank her, silently, finally, for being there for me, then.