It takes a long time
To figure out there are no monsters under the bed
I still stick my hand under the bed & dare them to tread upon my hard-won sanity & fearlessness
I dare them in the dark even when I know I’m not brave. I’m just yelling really loud & faking it. (It’s easier with monsters than with RealPeople)
It doesn’t last long ’cause I know monsters understand that one minute of bravery facing them is worth a thousand lifetimes of a cowardly soul. (I always win now, ’cause I’m unafraid of pain. Red eyes would still scare the BeJezus out of me though)
So, I feel so proud & justified when my hand is still attached to my arm as I’m back under the covers.
I defeated the monsters! Yea, me! Stupid, silly, still scared of the dark, me.
I realize in those moments that my silly fear is just as real as my silly courage.
I realize that maybe, it’s meant to remind me to understand why my kids, the ones who are smarter, more mature, decisive, pragmatic, cynical, innocent & loving, yet always want the bathroom & closet doors closed are worthy of my respect & acceptance & irritated awakeness.
I’m reminded why I learned to sigh & accept the fact that they always turn the full-length mirror against the wall,
much to my consternation & why I always let it stay…
When my son kisses me good-night & makes the Sign of the Cross on my forehead, I’m reminded of all that’s good in this world. I’m reminded that children need rituals & physical meanings to represent the soul’s true feelings.
I’m meant to remember that Love is real. It’s a sacrifice to repeat what our bodies may rebel against.
Childhood fears are merely importances of what love is.
Words, time, patience, prayer… Just being there without distraction
Knowing that another thinks of you
Wants to know you’re safe
Waits for you with hope.
Faith in something beyond men
The simple things in life
The uncynical, unselfish,
seemingly mundane things
in life are most important, actually.
Yes, that’s what I believe