Word Count: 359<\/p>\n

The summer night is so warm. And quiet. The backyard rolls away into the darkness of black trees. The pool sits like a cupcake, luring me to its cool icing and I crush out my cigarette, leave my coffee cup sitting on the ledge, and walk down the hill, pull down the ladder, take off my robe and slip into the silent invite of the water.<\/p>\n

My husband has long been asleep. The neighbors too, it appears. Just a few nightlights glow dimly through windows.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t swim but float on my back up and down the length of the pool, skimming the surface, barely rippling the water, barely making a sound. There\u2019s a loneliness that conflicts with the joy of being alone in a world full of people who don\u2019t know I\u2019m here, bathing in moonlight, naked and absorbing the moment I don\u2019t have to share.<\/p>\n

Slipping out of the water, waiting for the warm air to dry the beads of water off my body. There comes that instant when it becomes strange, even to me. When I wonder if anyone\u2019s watching, if someone heard something, a splash, a sigh, and looked out their windows to see what\u2019s different in their night.<\/p>\n

I put on my robe though it clings to the still-wet skin. Put up the pool ladder carefully, not wanting to cut the silence with a clang or even a squeak. The house calls me back home, a plump white box in the distance that looks further than the pool did when I stood at the doorstep.<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t believe I went down there, tested the waters as if it\u2019d be different from the day time offer of a cool dip to offset the heat of the sun. My secret, a chill that comes not from the cool air on my wet skin, but from an ancient past. One of the thrills I sought in my youth, the near topple from treading the edges, of peeking over the good walls I\u2019d built, of reaching in and taking something to hold in my hand as a secret. My moment I stole from the otherwise sleeping night.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Word Count: 359 The summer night is so warm. And quiet. The backyard rolls away into the darkness of black trees. The pool sits like a cupcake, luring me to its cool icing and I crush out my cigarette, leave … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[22],"class_list":["post-768","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-psychological-realism","tag-psychological-realism"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/768","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=768"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/768\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":829,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/768\/revisions\/829"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=768"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=768"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=768"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}