He hadn’t slept well that night. If he closed his eyes for even a moment, he could once again see his wife’s long Amazonian frame huddled in a fetal position before she shut off the light. He could still hear her weeping ever so softy at the edge of the bed.
Once he heard only rhythmic breathing, he grabbed his cell phone and ever so skillfully slipped out of bed tiptoeing into the darkness of the hallway. He held out his phone for its faint glow for any obstacles on the way to his son’s room. The light from street lamp outside the room’s window surrounded the crib. He found the baby snuggled in the corner of his crib gently snoring, his tummy rising and falling with every tiny breath. He gently brushed the baby’s blond bangs from his sweet little face before heading out the nursery and out the front door.
It seemed autumn had finally arrived. Breezes were brisker as they swept through the empty streets, rustling treetops along their way. And yet, there’s still something unnervingly quiet about a summer’s end. Sure the neighbor’s ridiculous dogs still howled at nothing, but that’s it. No fireworks. No frogs. No crickets. No hoodlums with their tops down booming rap from their cars.
Nothing.
Nothing but the echo of his footsteps slicing the chill in the air.
He had walked three streets now, with no final destination in mind. With his head low, he ignored his decrepit surroundings and focused at the task at hand. Not to lose count of his steps. Trival, maybe, but it was the only thing that kept his mind wondering to the fight before. If it could qualify a fight. More like mindless words exchanged in truth and yet, hurtful. Mindlessly hurtful.
Two-thousand, six hundred and seventy one… Two-thousand, six hundred and seventy two…
“I want to be like you,” she whispered. Her head hang low, her face hidden beneath mounds of tangled wet hair.
He smiled wildly, frustrated. “What do you mean like me?”
She looked up, eyes fierce and earnest. “I don’t want to be afraid of the dark again.”
Two-thousand, six hundred and eighty four… Two-thousand, six hundred and eight five…
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“No? Really? What about the darkness when you close your eyes, and find yourself alone? Alone with your thoughts and searching your soul?”
Like it is now.
Once he heard only rhythmic breathing, he grabbed his cell phone and ever so skillfully slipped out of bed tiptoeing into the darkness of the hallway. He held out his phone for its faint glow for any obstacles on the way to his son’s room. The light from street lamp outside the room’s window surrounded the crib. He found the baby snuggled in the corner of his crib gently snoring, his tummy rising and falling with every tiny breath. He gently brushed the baby’s blond bangs from his sweet little face before heading out the nursery and out the front door.
It seemed autumn had finally arrived. Breezes were brisker as they swept through the empty streets, rustling treetops along their way. And yet, there’s still something unnervingly quiet about a summer’s end. Sure the neighbor’s ridiculous dogs still howled at nothing, but that’s it. No fireworks. No frogs. No crickets. No hoodlums with their tops down booming rap from their cars.
Nothing.
Nothing but the echo of his footsteps slicing the chill in the air.
He had walked three streets now, with no final destination in mind. With his head low, he ignored his decrepit surroundings and focused at the task at hand. Not to lose count of his steps. Trival, maybe, but it was the only thing that kept his mind wondering to the fight before. If it could qualify a fight. More like mindless words exchanged in truth and yet, hurtful. Mindlessly hurtful.
Two-thousand, six hundred and seventy one… Two-thousand, six hundred and seventy two…
“I want to be like you,” she whispered. Her head hang low, her face hidden beneath mounds of tangled wet hair.
He smiled wildly, frustrated. “What do you mean like me?”
She looked up, eyes fierce and earnest. “I don’t want to be afraid of the dark again.”
Two-thousand, six hundred and eighty four… Two-thousand, six hundred and eight five…
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“No? Really? What about the darkness when you close your eyes, and find yourself alone? Alone with your thoughts and searching your soul?”
Like it is now.
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