Voices In The Night

Unbroken bonds

Photo by Pranav Kumar Jain on Unsplash

“But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you.” — Khalil Gibran

Sometimes in the night, a voice wakes me with a start. One of my children or my sisters. Our bonds unbroken by time or distance.

The hum of the fridge: a plea. The wind in the tree: a cry Mom, I skinned my knee. Mom, all the girls are wearing it.

One sister haunted by an accident, scar tissue pulling at her skin. Another sister sits upright in her bed, worrying about her five kids. It keeps my distant mind awake.

I toss and turn, thinking about the monsters under their beds. The ones I can’t fix. The invisible bruises that life grows, hiding in the closets among the accumulated boxes. The bills stacked on the counter.

I imagine someone also wide awake, wondering about me. Two hands stretching across the heavens.

The past reaches out. I hear my husband’s quiet voice, even though he’s gone; Sleep now, my love, and let your heart find rest.

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