ten o'clock

He flew out of bed with a start, a tiny little man with tears pouring from his serious grey eyes. Sobbing, he called for his mama. He called for his daddy.

I don't know where you are.

I can't find you.

Where are you?

Mamaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!

I sprinted up the stairs, caught him in my arms at the top step. I wrapped my arms around my hysterical boy; I buried him in my embrace.

What is the matter, lovey boy? Why are you crying?

I thought you were dead. Where is Daddy? Is he dead? I want my Daddy.

No, baby, we're not dead. We're right here. See? Daddy's right behind me.

He reached for The Mister, as if the only way to confirm that his Daddy was actually there was to wrap his little arms around his Daddy's neck. Seeing just wasn't believing.

The Mister whispered words of reassurance to Wee Man as he carried our babe to his bedroom, and tucked him back in bed.

I stood, frozen, at the top step. Panic gripped me as I remembered the days when Wee Man was a tiny baby, our brand new addition. Those days, when everything I did was clouded by the fear that something was going to happen to Wee Man. Clouded is an understatement...Fear chased me home from the grocery store. It woke me up in the middle of the night. It tormented my dreams.

Fear operated me.

And at ten o'clock at night, I tasted that same fear all over again. I knew exactly how my sweet boy was feeling, and it made my stomach turn into knots.

Hush, now, love. Mama's here.