Resting on the park bench is an old wooden cane.
Along with the luggage, glasses, and open book you may get the feeling someone is waiting for the train or just enjoying an afternoon in the park.
All together they evoke a feeling, individually not so much.
Except to those with insider knowledge that the cane actually belonged to my uncle who lived with my mother and I after my dad died.
Most visitors just see a cane, but I see family history.
Have a wonder-filled day,
Donna Flanagin
Random me: Daily routine, one cup cream and sugar.