Sweeping Away Indifference by Louise Lee - inspired by a '555' prompt

"The situation remained like this for a long time until all of a sudden ... "

Writing inspired by the 5th line of the 5th page of the 5th chapter of a book on a charity shop shelf.

Bridgnorth: A 'high' town and a 'low' town connected by many steps and divided by a river.

Having fun cleaning public steps is not something that people usually admit to.

    It would be an exaggeration to say that John was in his element, but he had a peaceful serenity and a determination to do a good job. 

    The steps are one of a pair leading to paths going in opposite directions along the river. John was on the steps on the left as the cars approached the bridge coming into Low Town. As he stood on the top step facing the road, opposite him was the clock tower. He had read that the clock, which has been there since 1867, requires frequent winding. “Rather them than me”, he muttered to himself.  He turned around and looked down. On this side of the bridge, at the bottom of the steps, is a path and short road called “Severn Side South.”  He surveyed the area he was assigned to tidy and figured that he would go just beyond the bottom step. Focussing his vision further down the path, he saw the usual row of cars. He didn’t know why people left their vehicles here, facing towards the river. There were a series of fee-paying car parks opposite the river. The first two are for customers of the Black Horse pub and the Falcon Hotel, then private spaces for residents of the houses along Severn Street, followed by the public one. This is where he left his car when bringing Maisie on her walk. They would walk through the car parks, turn left, and head towards Wellmeadow and the caravans. Or turn right, and his beloved dog would run up the steps, anticipating a lovely, interesting walk across the road towards Severn Park. 

    Time has moved on, and sadly, she is no longer a part of John’s life. John joined the community choir to fill a gap, and one thing led to another. One of the choir members suggested that, as he was still relatively new to the area, perhaps he would like to join the gardening group, where he would meet some new friends. This was Helen, the appointed leader of the group, who he later realised was on a recruitment drive. 

    It was a cold day in March, but the steps were in a dip, protecting him from the biting wind. His friends, Helen, Tony, Chris, Sue, Irene, and a new person, Ben, were working on the bridge and were exposed to the breeze as it swept down the river. They laughed and sang songs from the choir as they removed the weeds and litter covering the pavement underneath the railings, pulled down hats and tugged up woolly gloves underneath the obligatory leather gardening gloves worn like a uniform. The other optional communal clothing was a bright yellow tee shirt with Bridgnorth Community Gardening Group proudly written across the middle.

    He had lived here for two years, including the lockdown year, when he and Maisie would go exploring. These days, he intermittently attends the Thursday morning group, sometimes feeling that his garden needs to be put first. When he is with the group, he might get stuck in or dawdle and chat, depending on what is happening and his inclination. 

    John wasn’t a giving person by nature, but he appreciated the generosity of his fellow comrades. They were always in a battle with town weeds and ordinariness. The group replaced bushes with flowers and patches of grass with shapes and colours. They cleaned old phone boxes and put a couple of pots by them for good measure. Today, they were just as enthusiastic, and John hoped he could catch some of their cherishing by osmosis just by being around them. Their goodness rubbing off on him without having to do anything virtuous himself. 

     Mainly, he was alone, but occasionally, individuals or couples would come up or go down the

 steps. He didn’t pay any attention to where they were going to or coming from. He assumed they were enjoying the town and the river walk. Most people spoke and were friendly and grateful for his work. Only a runner and a man walking with purpose ignored him. John did not expect a “thank you” and was even slightly surprised when they sounded grateful. 

          “You're doing a fine job there.”

           “Come and do mine when you've finished.”

Only one person had a slight grumble, and John berated himself afterwards for not moving the secateurs and dustpan, turning the steps into an obstacle course.  The woman cursed slightly as she stepped around the various items. 

    John wasn’t averse to chatting and considered it part of the service. He briefly spoke with one man who imparted much knowledge in his conversation. 

   “There was sewage just there!”

    “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe my friend moved it when I wasn’t looking

    “It was sewage.” He said again, alarmed.

    “Oh, OK.” John was also a little alarmed and confused by this man's point but wanted to continue being part of the service. 

    “The council previously hosed down this area after a flood so that dust and sand wouldn’t lie around.”

    John expressed surprise and imagined how clean the path would have been in those days. As he and the man continued and leant over the railings, looking at the swans, ducks, and geese, he thought it was time for an introduction. 

    “What's your name?”

    “Dan, I’ve known that lady for a long time,” he said, pointing to Sue, “My wife used to work with her for many years.”

    John laughed when he saw Sue wave. “I’m John”

    He nodded. “Do you know why this goose has a deformed wing? 

    “Which goose?”

    “That one there, the grey one, it’s because people feed them bread. Feeding them bread causes "angel wing", which stops them flying. There used to be notices here telling people not to do it, but they’ve been ripped down.”

    John imagined people ignoring the writing on the wall behind them while continuing to throw bread at the ducks and geese. The goose with the broken wing was stranded in Bridgnorth while the other geese migrated to warmer locations during the winter months, and he felt sorry for it. He returned to the sweeping. 

    Brushing each step individually, starting with a broom and finishing with a dustpan and brush, gave him a sense of pride. Every little weed that dared to grow on the steps or along the wall was dug out. When he finished, he imagined the steps gleaming. He wondered how long the steps would remain clean before more weeds grew and the dust settled again. He might even be contributing to the problem. He was digging out soil with the weeds, leaving little crevices. He imagined bigger and fiercer weeds replacing them. 

    The sweeping reminded him of a story he once encountered while browsing a book in a charity shop. He opened the book on a random page and was on chapter five on the fifth page of the chapter. He read, “The situation remained like this for a long time until all of a sudden…..” In the book, he flicked back to discover the story's context. It was a book from an Eastern tradition, and the story was about a monk called Lam Chung: a man of little intellect who had been demoted many times despite being offered great opportunities. In the story, his chances had run out, and then he met Buddha, who gave him the job of being a sweeper in the temple. He swept one side, and when that was done, he swept the other side only to discover that the first side was dusty again. He would sweep that, and then there would be dust on the other side. Buddha had said that this sweeping would purify him. He began to be despondent but then realised that the dust was not just dust but held a meaning for him. 

    John considered his job of sweeping the steps, realising that this, too, had a meaning for him. Soon, these steps would be dirty again. However, trying to rid the steps of dust and soil wasn’t the point of what he was doing today. On this day, he remembered his dog Maisie with joy and sadness. He now had another dog who would bring him joy, but Maisie would always be special, and these were her steps.  He thought of all the lovely people he had met that day and how he and the group brightened up their lives. The goose’s plight was also significant, and he considered that despite people’s well-meaning, they don’t always do the right thing by animals. He had met Dan and wondered whether he was real or imagined and the significance of his stories. Last but not least, he continued to marvel at the wonderful people compelled to keep our lovely town beautiful. 

    When the work was done, they went to have a coffee.