The sunshine blinds me when I open my eyes. I’ve done it again; fallen asleep on the swing set waiting for him to come home. Since I’m still here, I figure he didn’t.
It’s been a warm summer, so hanging out on the deck at night has been a treat. In the beginning, he’d find me asleep and wake me gently to come in. That was until I said something about the sour smell of scotch on his breath. After that, he’d just nudge me and say he was home. I’d pick myself up and follow him inside. He’d be gone by morning, back to work.
One morning, I found myself still on the swing set come daylight. Worried, I called him. He didn’t make it home, he said. Big project at work, he said. Stayed at the Best Western, he said. Be home tonight, he said.
Found someone else, he said. Been unhappy for a while, he said. Good bye, he said.
I don’t know when it was when I noticed that he’d stopped coming home altogether. I don’t know when it was when we first stopped talking to each other. I don’t know when it was when we first stopped laughing together.
What I’d give for a tunnel back into the time we last smiled at each other.