Mommy, I don’t like it when you’re not here. I get afraid.
This is what she said to me, sitting straight up in bed at 3 o’clock this morning.
I’d heard her footsteps first. Klunk. Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. All 38 pounds of her, driving her small feet in to the floor with the force of a baby elephant. I sat up in bed and saw her tiny figure standing still in our bedroom doorway, framed by the light we absent-mindedly left on in living room. By some trick of diffraction the light found its way around three corners to land at her back, to ghostly effect. I called her name softly, but with some hesitation. She was honestly freaking me out. Standing there silently, still. Her face completely obscured by darkness and too-long bangs.
She turned and ran back to her bed. Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. I pushed the covers away from my legs and followed her, my heart still beating fast from the Stephen King of it all. Continue reading