Term Assignment: Sitting on a Story Blog
1314 15th street east,
North Vancouver, BC, V7J1K8
June 15, 2025
Mr. Tracy Hallam
English Teacher at Sutherland Secondary
1860 Sutherland Avenue, North Vancouver
British Columbia, V7L4C2
Dear Mr. Hallam:
Recently, I have revisited a bench that I have not been to since my childhood. I returned to this bench to complete your Bench Blog Story assignment, and I chose this particular bench because it was a safe space for me during difficult times. Once I completed this essay, I wrote a journal about my journey to the bench.
Additionally, I have written about where I would like a bench dedicated to me, and what I would like the inscription plate to say. I also mentioned that I would like to dedicate a bench to my father, specifying where it would be located, and what I would want the inscription plate to say.
Furthermore, in my letter to you, I have included three poems, one written by Paul Gerard Reed, and two written by me. I reflected on how Reed’s poem connected to my personal philosophy of life, and I explained why I chose it. I then went on to write about my opinion on parks, and what I think a park's purpose is.
Thank you for taking the time to consider my assignment, and I truly hope that you enjoy reading the contents of this letter.
Continues
Mr. Hallam,
Sutherland Secondary School
Page 2
June 15, 2025
Yours sincerely,
Sadie Winkler
enclosure
Term Assignment
Sitting on a Story Blog
2000-3000 words
1. Visiting a Park Bench:
Here I sit on my safety bench, visiting one of my childhood go-to spots. A place that I once played at with a lightheartedness now only holds familiar but distant memories. As much as where I now sit was my happy place, it ended up turning into my safe space as I started to age. When things got bad, I’d go here. It is about fifty feet from the townhouse I grew up in. The house that used to be easy to spot from where I sit is no longer visible like it once was; the trees have grown now, blocking my clear view. I’d come here at all hours of the night and morning; turning the once joyous setting into a place that I went to for an escape. The worst part was that while sitting here, I could still hear the commotion coming from my house at this park; I could never truly escape it. I felt safer here, in the pitch black, laying on the inviting wood of this park bench, than at home.
It has four wooden slats on the seat, with a gap of separation between the seat and the four slats that make up the back rest. It has uncomfortable metal ridges that dug bruises into my back and side when I laid on them for too long. It had, over time, become moist with green algae leading to stains on my clothes, but that didn't ever matter to me. It was the most comfortable napping place for an exhausted child. Metal bars for armrests to pair with the metal ridges that held the slats of wood together served as a worthy headrest for my aching mind. From my bench, I now am looking at the stars just as I did back then, glancing from time to time at the trees and swings that I used to play on.
The swings stand stagnant, and the trees stand taller. It feels like I'm an alien sitting here, an outsider looking into a past that I have tried to lock away and forget. It makes me want to open that door again, to dig deeper into a painful time that I have put so much effort into burying up until this point. I think it would be healthy for me to dig it up and to feel it. I have had most of my childhood bottled up and thrown away, and I think that I should try to find it again; I think I want to. Maybe I'll lose it. Maybe I'll develop one hundred and fifty-seven different personalities. Maybe I'll develop schizophrenia. But what if I don't? What if I heal? What if I get a chance to live a more functional and normal life? Sometimes I feel like these unresolved traumas really drag me down. It can feel like I'm pulling a ball and chain that is my trauma, and maybe I'd feel a little lighter unlocking the cuff of that chain and letting it go.
Sitting on this bench, feeling the cold wood through my clothes, and the splinters digging into my hands, I feel myself and the present moment begin to slip away. The dampness of the algae on the bench and the stains on my now green clothes serve as a painful but comforting reminder. I feel as though I'm just going to get stuck here. Some innocent part of me wants to stay, to sit here for hours on end and not move. It makes me want to become one with this bench and its eight wooden slats. Two of the metal ridges are currently digging into my thighs, but I'm finding it hard to want to reposition to avoid the discomfort that is oddly comforting. It feels as though I'm experiencing the same sensations that I used to. As I'm writing this assignment, I’m finding that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate the longer that I sit here. I feel myself fading, slowly falling into a more disembodied state, dissociating from the world around me. I think this is what she used to feel. What she used to experience. It’s no wonder that I don't remember most of my ventures here.
This time is different though, I'm not on this bench out of obligation or because I had nowhere else to go. This time, it's my choice, coming back here. It’s odd, and in a sense, I'm reliving horrendous times in my life, but in some melancholic way, I feel like I'm lying with and comforting my younger self as she lays here with me. I couldn't be more thankful that I'm past that stage of my life, but at this moment in time, I'm feeling a sick sense of Nostolgia while I sink deeper into the fogginess. In some ways, I long to be back then, to tell myself that it would all be over soon, and that I would make it through to another day. Sitting here now, all I'm encompassed with is a deep sense of hiraeth. A longing for a home that I had, a home that felt like my whole world, but that no longer exists. I can never go back, even if I wanted to.
3. A Bench Dedicated to Me:
If I were to have a bench dedicated to me, I would like the bench to be at Bedrock, an island in the center of the Lynn Canyon River. Bedrock is a place that I have gone to ever since I was little, harboring fond, but foggy, memories of me, my brother and my dad. The island where my bench would be is where bedrock has been built, harboring a bunch of rock seats, water pools, and trees for privacy. This place is old, built by people from before my dad, holding the ‘locals only’ kind of vibe to it. There are two pools full of river trout, and every year we head up to bedrock to dam them back up, so this ethereal place doesn't just wash away. The inscription on my old, rickety bench would be, “Life, like a river, flows peacefully and roars intensely. All we can do is follow every twist and turn along the way.”
I think that living with and accepting the existing flow of life is something that all humans must come to terms with. Sometimes things that are delightful and fulfilling can happen, in 5the peaceful part of the flow, and we must learn to experience and appreciate it in the moment that we so luckily have it. There are also things that life throws at us that are completely and utterly out of our control. The river, our lives, as much as it can be calm and pleasant, can throw boulders and jagged trees into the mix of vigorous water. Hazardous and harmful things that we must learn to navigate around are very real, and if we don't persevere, we are liable to drown under the intensity of the roaring flow.
Know that with the bad there will always eventually be good, and vice versa. The times where we can float about, relax, and enjoy ourselves need to be appreciated while it lasts. I think that's what is most important for humans to recognize. Understanding that sometimes the river can be dangerous and uncontrollable, but that it can also be ethereal and the most enjoyable thing imaginable. If one can't handle the river that is life, they are bound to drown in the rapids.
4. Bench Dedicated to Someone:
If I dedicated a bench to someone, it would be dedicated to my dad. One spot that we used to go to together was along a local beach, specifically at Kings Mill Park. We often, when I was struggling or just overly upset, would go grab a coffee and sit on the rocks apart of the breakwater behind the King Mills volleyball court along the beach's edge. We would sit there for a few hours, each of us subconsciously sitting on the same rock as our last visit, and I would like the bench to go right where we used to sit. It would be right above our preferred sitting rocks, existing as our own personal therapy bench to go to.
The bench, being behind the volleyball court and along the water's edge, would be more hidden from wondering people of the beach looking for their own bench to relax on. The location would give us privacy to talk about things that would be turned into whispers by the sound of the waves crashing among the rocks. I'm dedicating this bench to my dad because him bringing me to that beach, whether it was to talk things out or to sit there in silence, allowed me a place to heal, to feel safe. It was a much-needed therapy at the time, and I’m thankful to him for that.
The inscription plate would say “take a minute to sit with the water, and the people you love,” because I find in our modern-day society, people forget to take a minute to appreciate. To have gratitude towards the small, and big, things that we have in life while we still are lucky enough to have them. In the city, our lives have become majorly consumed by the fast-paced motions and overwhelming stressors that have become everyday life. Sometimes it's important to take a couple seconds, or better yet, a couple hours, to spend time with nature, ourselves, and our loved ones.
5. A Journal About My Journey to The Park:
In my journey to the park and my safety bench, I realized how far I truly have come, and how proud I am of my younger self. I went through so much, and returning to a place that rips me back through time to the ripe age of ten, was like a slap in the face. As much as it was a difficult hit to take, it was also enlightening. At that age, I fully believed I would be dead by now, whether it was from drugs, circumstances, or suicide. Impossible to me at the time, I, against all odds, persevered and pulled through. I'm happy that I went back to my bench, my childhood safe space, as it truly has made me take a step back to appreciate where I now am and how much I have grown as a person.
I often try to fully disregard and detach myself from the time in my life, so it was reinvigorating being able to experience that place once again. Even though it was painful, and it upset me a tad, it was worth every minute that I sat there. I'm hoping that I’ll head back there again in the near or distant future, just to remind myself where I came from. It can be easy to forget the leaps and bounds that I have gone through to get to where I am today, and revisiting my childhood safety bench helps me take a step back to recognize that.
6. A Poem That Suits My Bench:
A Safe Place
That which you have given me
Has enriched me
And seeped deep into my bones,
Hidden away from the day to day cares
But still there;
Ready for me to call upon when needed
An inner strength,
A central core,
A spirit and a belief
That life is good
And worth fighting for;
A place to come to
In troubled times
When storms rage
And seas are high;
A safe place where values are kept,
Where right and wrong are known
Where love is treasured
And my conscience is preserved;
The very center of me
Around which all other things
Are mere satellites;
You placed it there without knowing
That the tree would ever bear fruit
But you believed it to be so,
And that would be enough.
Paul Gerard Reed
7. Why I chose This Poem, And How It Connects with My Personal Philosophy of Life:
I chose this poem because I feel like it really relates to the themes I mention while writing about my safety bench. The poem refers to a safe space during times of chaos, and that is exactly what my bench was for me. A safe space. The second I read the poem I felt it really clicked and connected to my Bench Blog essay. It matches the message of my essay quite well, so I knew it would be very fitting. Having a place to go to in troubled times, where I could give myself some peace of mind, is exactly what my bench was to me; the safe space in this poem.
This poem deeply resonates with me because I relate to it on a personal level. It communicates something that I fully agree with, which is having a safe space to turn too. I think everyone needs that space or place to escape to, whether they're a child or an adult. It is important to take that step back for yourself, to recognize when you need a break from life. Having a place where you can run to, to think, process and just feel things is a must have, or at least it is for me. I think it's healthy, and if more people participated in having somewhere to go, just for them, I think humans would be happier. How can you expect others to understand you if you have difficulty processing and understanding yourself, your morals, or your emotions?
8. Purpose of a park:
A park serves many different purposes, ranging from a social hotspot for young spry children, a community for parents to intermingle, or even as a peaceful place to wander around when you need some time to reconnect with yourself or nature. A parks playground serves as a positive environment for the growth and wellbeing of children. The playground is useful for children to develop motor skills, coordination, and muscle by swinging from monkey bars or using the park as an obstacle course. It is also the perfect place for them to build social skills, connecting and communicating with one another. In a similar way, the park causes parents and other family members to do the same.
Parks promote social networks, connecting people to one another in many ways, whether that's children, or adult, sport clubs or if it’s meeting a stranger that’s sitting on the same bench as you. It's also the best spot to bring your kids to let them run off a lot of pent-up steam, getting out the energy that seems to be never ending. The playground is useful for children to utilize and build motor skills, coordination, and muscle, such as swinging from monkey bars or using the park as an obstacle course.
As much as parks and playgrounds are often viewed as family locations in the daylight, during the night, they change to quite the opposite. In the years of my adolescence, I've previously spent a lot of time at parks, partying and hanging out with other teenagers, participating in all kinds of delinquent activities. Even still, at night when things are more debauchery oriented than family oriented, the park still serves as a major point for social connection and intermingling. It is an open place, lacking parents or authority, for teenagers to fully let loose and be, to put it blankly, stupidly and utterly out of control.
While the parks at night are fun for teens, it's important to recognize the potential dangers that lie within them. It isn't new news that teenagers and youngsters like to hang out and get intoxicated in parks late at night, so unfortunately, predators fully know that. It's hard to tell what lies in the dark, so it is vitally important for them to stick with a group and keep track of every one of their close friends that is drunkenly partying.
9. My poems:
My Safety Bench
Old times to new times,
Bad to good.
Life is ever changing,
And that now is understood.
For then it felt permanent,
Me staying on this bench,
My forever safe space,
With all the time that I had spent.
But now it feels freeing,
Knowing I’m back here as a choice.
As this was once my safe place,
To hide from all the noise.
The hours that I sat there,
And me sitting here now,
Brings comfort to my soul,
And the child that hides inside.
-Sadie Winkler
Wooden Memories
The wood against my body
The algae on my clothes,
The metal ridges causing bruises
And the armrest, a pillow.
The time that I have spent here
In cold and lonely nights,
The feelings I have now
Nostalgia in my sights.
The trees have grown taller
And the swings now stand still.
With the memories now racing,
My tears begin to spill.
I'll sit here for many more hours
Just as I used to do.
Lying in the wait of time,
To hopefully cause things to heal.
With time comes new beginnings
Rather than living in the past,
But revisiting is acceptable
Because home is where I’m at last.
- Sadie Winkler
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