Night Swing

I felt my heart drop from what I had just witnessed.

I turned from the window and almost jumped from the muted thump of the laundry basin I just dropped. It was hard to erase the image of the unknown woman in my married brother’s embrace, the passionate kiss they shared, the clothes they discarded on the floor. Who cares if I had laundry to finish? I needed to distance myself from this reality right then and there.

I walked away from the scene and into the darkness of the windy night. Very few people were on the streets at this time, so I had the entire road as my walkway. It was probably just as well, considering that I was treading the streets like a wasted drunkard, with just as little idea of where I was headed. It was hard to focus on where to go when my tears blurred my vision and my mind was too distraught by anger and disappointment.

My brother was my solid rock in this world. He taught me a lot of the principles I hold dear. Among the many that I’ve learned from him, he made me value trust, integrity, and, most especially, honesty. It’s interesting how all of that could be dashed by a nonchalant glance in an open window.

My feet soon stopped by a bright streetlamp, and I looked up to find myself at the old playground my brother and I used to go to. Despite the darkness, I saw the two of us climbing up the old mango tree, running up the slide, fighting over who got to go first on the monkey bars, laughing while taking turns at the playground roundabout, and, of course, just talking about life as we sat on the swing set.

I made my way to the swings and sat there for a bit, rocking myself back and forth. The wind blew through my hair and my tear-stained cheeks as my sobs quieted down with each swing I made.

I looked up and watched as the breeze made the tree leaves shiver in the wind. I watched their dance blankly and wondered if they would fall to the wind’s gentle whispers, and if it was really as seductive as temptation.

I stayed on that swing for a very long time, ignoring the insect bites that accumulated on my legs and arms. After a while, I sighed, slapped at the mosquitoes, and went back to see if I could still pick up the fragments of my broken heart, my broken trust.

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Related story: dcwritesstories.com/done

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Image source: deviantart.com/davyjames/art/Get-Away-From-the-Swings-25422361
First written April 5, 2018.
#180