The Romance of Our Shadows

boy with a hat

Shadows on the wall

Who knows what my shadow does while I sleep?

Does he rest too?

Or does he caper on the chamber wall, performing cartwheels and somersaults?

Does he take a moonlight shower?

Does he then preen himself a little, gazing at his reflection in the windowpane?

And when the witching hour comes, does he bid my sleeping self goodbye?

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waiting out the demons

a diary of a mom


 Photo from Dump a day

“Slowly now,” I say. “Slowly, baby. Let’s slow it down.”

My mantra.

“We can get through this, kiddo. We can. We will.”

“Mama’s here.”

I curl my body around yours, still small enough to fit – one cup perfectly designed to nest inside another, then, someday another still, and another still. God’s infinitely perfect Mama Plan.

“Slowly, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

I wrap myself around you. I throw my leg over yours, wrap my arm around your shoulders, cup your wet cheek in my hand.

Leave her alone! She’s done nothing!

I silently shout to no one there.

Leave. Her. Alone.

Come get ME.

You’re trembling. Damn it, you’re trembling.

I pull you closer and tug at the comforter. I arrange it just so until it covers us both. I know you’re not cold, but I have to do something. Put something between you and them.

Come get ME.


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Peter`s Point of view