Time for Parole

It wasn’t until yesterday that I thought about my brother. He had been in jail for the past eight years and no matter how many times he called to ask for a visit or for money, I couldn’t forget that he was a storyteller, someone who could not be trusted, someone who found excuses for all of the wrongs he has made. No matter how I have tried to separate my life from his, his mistakes continue to affect me like invasive parasites, like tendrils of a weed wanting to ruin a perfect lawn.  

So now I sit and read my letter, telling me that his time for parole was coming. I know I must be courageous and hold onto my values, not his. The heat I feel in my gut is the fear of what is to come. If he is to get out of jail, what chain of events is going to lead him to my door again?  

For today I will savor my drama-free life, loving the wee things that make me so happy, the first buds of spring, the chirping of the birds, and the smell of the spring rain. I will ignore that sly fox that is about to emerge from his den and enjoy my bit of freedom.  

©2020 CBialczak

Written for Sunday Whirl: https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2020/02/29/wordle-445/