When she came around a bend in the path, she noticed her view of the weeping willow tree had faded with time. She sat down on the familiar old, wooden bench overlooking the meadow sprinkled with a variety of wildflowers. She quinted, rubbed her tired eyes and drew the details of the tree from memory.
When the sunlight cast an orange hue, she knew it was time to leave. Calm and at peace with her decision, she walked to the bus stop, stood on the curb and waited for the noisy, red shape to appear. When it came close to her, she deliberately stepped in front it.