Ten

Something unknown broke across sleep and woke the boy.

With practised calm we lift him from his room to ours. A quick glance between us as we wonder 

‘how long will this one be?’ 

We sit on the bed, quietly, waiting for it to pass. Small arms flail and the young voice fills the room with misery.

Turbulent emotions flood through him, intensity flowing into us. Holding tight to the hope that arms and legs are not truly aimed at us, we wait.

And watch

And wait

Occasionally hushing or cooing or saying his name, we wait

And watch

And wait

Until the tide ebbs, recognition returns and we are able to hold and soothe him. As quickly as it came it is gone. He sleeps quietly, soundly and we lay there. Trying to transform all that we have absorbed.