I love the way the stars light up my ceiling when I turn out the lights. The way they are arranged; creates pictures in my imagination. On the other side of my turquoise wall the big screen TV blasts in the family room, making it impossible for me to sleep. Yet there is something comforting about it. Any night that I have to sleep without it, fear sleeps next to me in my twin size bed. I guess knowing that mommy and daddy are out there makes me feel protected; even if dad is asleep on the couch.
Something is upsetting me tonight. I try to put it out of my head, but secretly I am concentrating to telepathically tell my mommy to come make me feel better. I realize that this is silly and roll over to watch the car lights move across my wall. I hear my door open and see light flood my floor.
“Goodnight honey.” Mom’s sweet voice sings.
I sit up in bed with a pout on my chubby five-year-old face. As I begin to tell her my troubles she lies down beside me. Sweet mommy smell alone sweeps some of the fear away.
Together we stare at the green stars; she asks me what I see. We talk about what was bothering me and then about music, and beliefs, love and magic, and eventually solve all of the worlds’ problems.
I tell her that I’ll make a religion someday; one where everyone is included and no one gets left out. Mommy thinks that seems like a good idea.
I see my mom every single day. I’ve known her longer than anybody in my life. Of all the vast memories I could think about from day to day, the night me and mom became best friends stands out the most.
It’s funny the things you remember.
Les Amandiers
3 years ago
