Out the window an endless sea of white…
I close my eyes
… like the white knubby blanket on my bed
when I tried to sleep so still, so flat
that no one would know I was in the bed -
especially not the vampire in my closet.
“Little Me, this is scared.”
I lie in bed next to her
and feel her heart racing.
“This is scared,” I say again,
“and if you let yourself feel it,
it will pass.”
I whisper-sing a lullaby.
I lean my head against the window.
The clouds now a sea of pink.
Pink, pink, pink, turning angry red at the bottom.
I close my eyes again.
Radiators hiss and clang, but mine…
… mine is a nightmare.
His bellicose voice echoes through the radiator.
“You are a terrible mom!”
Loud. Angry.
“Awful children.”
Teen Me tosses in her bed,
yearning for someone to hold her,
safe and warm, all night,
every night.
“This is abandonment.
And shame and fear,”
I say as I sit on the edge of her bed.
“May I hold your hand?” I ask.
“I’m here,” I say.
“I love you
and you
and me.”
Jill O