"I swear, I saw her." He protested, clutching his blanket and bunching himself up against the headboard.

​

"No you didn't." I replied, instantly regretting my tone. Work had been beyond stressful off late with all the Zoom calls and "work from home" being more like "work 24/7 because you're at home". Still, no reason to take it out on Joshua. "Go to bed chipmunk." I cajoled.

​

"But she's in here." Josh insisted curling his feet under him and staring beyond me into a dark hallway. Eyes glassy and piercing with enough fervor to make me turn around and check the hallway, shut the door and look by the dark corner of the closet. Nothing but empty crevices brought to life by a child's imaginations. Night terrors. I had them too.

​

I sighed and sat on the bed. He slid closer instantly and wrapped tiny arms around me, barely able to make it past the outer edges of my back. "It's alright." I soothed and felt his ragged breathing calm. "It's okay."

 

"Why does she only show up when I'm alone." he sniffled.

 

"Cause it's all in your mind chipmunk. You know how your mind can make it so you're a spaceman or a cop?" He nodded. "Well, sometimes it can make it so you see things that aren't there."

 

"But she really scared me."

 

I know. I remember the things I saw as a kid. I also remember what my mom told me when she held me in the dark and I could barely put my arms around her.

 

"Why can't the monsters hurt us?" I ask him, "I told you, remember?"

 

He sniffled, "Yeah, I do."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because they suck." He said head pressed against my chest, I can feel him smile.

 

I giggled. He snickered. I laughed a little, then he did too. It got louder until we both were clutching our guts and tearing up. Our hearts lightened.

 

"Feel better?" I ask, still trying not to break out into another fit of giggles.

 

He nodded, "Can you put on a night light?"

 

I do. It's dim glow fills the room and fights off the darkness in the corner. I turn back at the door. "Night chipmunk." I tell him.

 

"Night daddy."

 

Leaving the door open, I step out into the hallway. My eye lids weigh heavy and I feel my legs yearn for the soft expanse of my bed. I plug in the night light in the hallway as well. My tired mid recalls my mother. God rest her soul.

 

Before I enter my room, I turn back and look down the long hallway towards my son's room.

 

For a second I think the darkness shifts.

 

I blink my eyes and rub out the sleep. 

 

Then, in the soft glow of the night light, I see her.