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"You see this here spot on the bench, where it's all worn away?" Clarence asked.
     "Yeah, I've noticed that a few times, and wondered why they didn't paint it again." I answered.
     "Well, that's from me and Grace, you see, our tushies sittin' here all these years," he told me. "And every year when the works department guys come around, I give them a hundred bucks to keep it the way it is."
     "For real?!?" I asked him.
     "Damn straight!" He said, proudly, then added, "You gonna do that for us from now on?"
     And I laughed outright at this, thinking for sure that it was a joke, but when I looked his way he was as serious as a preacher and turning red, so I knew I'd taken him wrong, or maybe hurt his feelings. But then I thought - why did he say that? And why did he say "us"? That's very odd. But I chalked it up to old age and let it go.
     I glanced over at him then and he looked like he'd been pondering, too, but then said, "Oh, don't mind me ... silly ramblings of an old man, you know! Nothing to take too seriously." And he gave me a wry smile, but one not quite convincing, and went back to feeding our feathered friends, as I did.
    "Come here, Grace - get your fill!" He said to the duck with the stripe. And I almost missed this, but it struck me as even odder.
     "What did you say? Did you call that one 'Grace'?" I asked.
     "Yep!" He answered, "That one with the striped leg. Well, I know it seems silly and all, but it showed up here the day after Grace ... well, you know, after she left, and the damn thing has a stripe on its left leg, almost like a wedding ring, kinda, and it's REAL friendly towards me, and ... well, I just started calling it Grace."
     I chuckled at this, thinking it was a fun sort of thing, or that he was teasing me a bit, but when I glanced up his face was very stern and getting red again, and I realized I'd embarrassed him. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, "That's really very sweet, I just thought you might have been ribbing me."
     "Nope. Wasn't." Was all he replied, and another silence ensued, and lasted until we were both almost out of bread and seed.
     "You believe in that reincarnation hooey?" He finally asked, out of the long silence, "You know, where your soul sorta comes back in something else ... or someONE else."
     "I honestly don't know," I replied, after some thought. "But I have some very strong memories from being on a battle ship in the South Pacific in one of the wars, and it's not a dream memory or from a movie I've seen, but it's very, very strong, and seems as real as anything else I remember, so ..." I trailed off, and let the sentence hang there, then added, "I guess I'd have to say that I lean in that direction, though like with God and faith, I'll never know for sure ... at least not in THIS life." And I turned and smiled at him, and he smiled at me, and then winked, a real SLOW wink, so he could make sure I knew it's intent.
     "Well," he answered, "Always keep an open mind about those things, cause you just never know ... you know?" And I nodded my head. "I mean, that little duck there, the one I call Grace ... there's just something about her, something I can't put into words ... but she's special. Very, very special. And that stripe ... "
     And I noticed then that all the other birds had given up, (as we had finished with most of our feed and were just talking), but that one little duck with the striped leg, had sat down on the pavement beside the bench, right beside Clarence's foot, and was slowly closing its eyes to enjoy what was left of the sun. Now this struck me as very odd as well, and as a smile of interest and realization crossed my face, I slowly turned to Clarence, and he gave me a big, broad smile, and then that wink again, REAL slow, so he'd know I'd seen it.
     "Well, real nice talking with you this afternoon, Greg," says Clarence," I hope you keep coming here to feed the ducks and geese ... and don't forget the swans, you make sure you always feed the swans, too, ok?"
     And while I hadn't been planning to leave just then, I took this as a hint that he wanted to be alone, so I got up, shook his gnarled, rough old hand, and said, "Thank you so much, Clarence ... I really enjoyed our little chat!" And headed toward the pond edge to give the last few crumbs to the swans, as I always did.
     "Well, I had to pass the torch, didn't I?" Clarence called after me. "You have a good life, young man!"
     This also struck me as rather peculiar, because he said it in a way that sounded like he was sure he'd never see me again, even though it was a safe bet that I'd run into him eventually ... and soon. I decided that after I gave the swans their dessert, I'd go back up the knoll and ask him what he meant by that, but when I finished the bag of crumbs and turned to head that way, I saw that he'd gone, and though I searched everywhere with my eyes, I couldn't find him. But, strange as it sounds, the duck with the striped leg was still there, but now ON the bench with its eyes closed, right where Clarence had been sitting, enjoying the late-day sun - not a care in the world.
     Well, it's been about ten weeks since last I saw Clarence, though I now go to the park every single day, without fail, and feed the ducks and geese and swans. I feed the pigeons now, too, like Clarence did, because whenever I get through at the water's edge with the fowl, the pigeons are up there by the bench, waiting for me, like Clarence had somehow told them to come and find ME if he wasn't around, (thanks for that, Clarence, lol). But I don't really mind. I've asked the public works people if they've seen him, but nobody has ... not since that day in late October.
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