an appreciated blessing in disguise
I don’t notice the silent man fishing until he dumps a wriggling fish onto the grass, the creature catching moonlight on its scales. I watch incredulously at the fish flopping on dry weeds until eventually it stops, body still slightly curved from wanting water. Such a sight is rarely invited into my vision so I look for some time, long enough for the man to cast a curious glance at the girl staring at his dinner dying.
I walk past the playground, silence broken by regular intervals of creaking swings that always sound to me like purring cats. Somehow I have this idea that cats hide in the drains meowing in the night, eyes flashing at passers-by from beneath metal grilles. In the darkness everything I imagine seems possible. I quickly step over the drain.
Many people run at night. I observe the figures who jog past me, thinking to myself how fast they all run, soon disappearing out of sight. I am an anomaly, brisk-walking through the park in flip-flops that echo in noisy rubber slaps against the ground. The river is beautiful at night; gentle gold and silver flares of light blanket the water surface in migratory bird patterns. They spill across the water and into each other, melding into a abstract painting that museums cannot purchase. I tell myself that someday I will go to the water at night; I hope that I’m never so busy that someday never comes. Right now I am at peace.