It took a sudden swift breeze to gently pull her out of her train of thoughts, and introduce her to the fact that she was drenched to the skin. She didn’t realize how long she’d been idling on that swing – it was just a drizzle..
The street lamp had already been switched on by the thoughtful uncle (who usually took his walk around this hour every evening), when she had climbed down the stairs and stepped out onto the street. The retard next door was again listening to some flop number from the last decade over and over, repeatedly!
She looked to her right: the end of the street was alight by the shops that were alive with the early night hustle of customers and the late evening gatherings of the gangs of 17-year-old’s.
She turned left, and started walking.
She didn’t register when she entered the park, or how long she strolled the walkway. Round and round. Again and again. Until, subconsciously aware of her tired body, she came to a halt beside her favorite swing, her companion, her refuge..
Slowly, she ran her finger up its rusting chains.
She remembered the times she had raced her younger sister and brother towards this swing. How she had possessively… protectively snatched it out of their competing grabs.. how she had always swung on it, high, like she could touch the sky and laugh with the moon..
The full moon had been shining unusually brightly when she’d walked out the door and onto the street. Now, dark clouds were fast taking over the moon’s reign over the helpless sky.
She sank into her swing. A dead weight holding on to the dead chains for support. Her loose hair hung dark over her face.
But they could not hide the half parted quivering lips. Nor could they cover the tear that escaped her closed eye. She brushed it off (her cold cheek) swiftly, as if she didn’t want it to tickle. But another tear, taking advantage of her distraction, escaped her left eye.
This was too much. Even her tears deceiving her was just too much.
She wanted to be strong, but the tears seemed intent on defying her futile efforts to curb them, and instead, on flowing of their own free will. They were weakening her second by second.
And she gave in to uncontrollable sobs. Sobs and tears that overwhelmed her.
She let all the pain of all those years pour out of her. She couldn’t fight it. She was helpless.. like always.
Tonight, she let herself cry. Cry her life out. And the night cried with her. For her.
Until she slid off the swing, and dropped down on her knees in the puddle of collecting mud – a soul that seemed to have lost all wars and all battles. A soul draining away in the night’s rain.
And the wind carried her sobs away….. far away… where no one could hear them…. ever….. never again..