I dream of lying on cool grass under a warm sun. Starlings wheel and call
above me, but the sound is distant and undisturbing. They each want a piece
of me, I know, but they can't touch me, not now. They'll have to wait for
morning.

Then one dives lower than the rest, cries more loudly, shattering the
protective oblivion. I roll from bed, still asleep as I stumble across the
hall. In the doorway, staring into the golden nightlight glow of Jeremy's
bedroom, I wake up.

The lights of a passing car flicker a multi-tiered path down the blinds and
across the room, setting shadows into motion. Jeremy's on the floor, eyes
wide with alarm. His screams mellow to whimpers as he sees me. The hiss of
tires on wet pavement outside fades.

"It's all right, Bear."

I reach for him, feeling less generous than I sound. He was nearly
impossible to get to bed last night, I have an early meeting in the morning,
and I want my own bed.

"Just a little tumble. Back under the covers with you."

When I pick him up, he curls against my shoulder. Thin arms tighten like
morning glory vines around my neck, choking all hope of a quick fix to the
night-time bumps. I pat his back, automated soothing, and lay him on his
pillow. Still he holds on, pulling me down with him.

"It's all right. Go back to sleep now."

He whimpers. He does not let go. Irritation flashes red behind my eyes.

"It's the middle of the night. You have to go back to sleep. Mommy has to
go back to sleep. Let go."

He shakes his head. His curls tickle my nose, scratch my eyes.

"Jeremy."

The red is in my voice, too. He whimpers, then sobs. I bite my tongue, not
because I'm any less irritated, but because I realize my impatience will
only lengthen the ordeal.

I take a deep breath, hold it, surrender to his iron embrace. I slide into
bed with him and pull him onto my lap.

The sobbing fades again to a whimper. His grip on my neck relents. He
can't hug all the way around my torso, but he tries anyhow. I wait,
stroking his hair in hopes it will hurry him back to sleep.

Somewhere between one breath and the next, I stop waiting. The house is
silent save for the unsteady breathing of the little man in my lap.
Timeless night holds us in its embrace, sheltering us from the starlings of
worry and hurry. The quiet settles through my skin and into my bones. I
cease doing and just am. Jeremy's weight becomes a welcome burden, the
smoothing of his hair becomes as soothing to me as it is to him.

He settles, protected from whatever haunts his dreams by my presence. By
me, only me. I feel how I feel when I land a new account, sell a price
increase, reel in a wayward client. Almost the same, but bigger. Deeper.
That meeting, five hours and a whole lifetime away, seems trivial.

He's asleep now. I could lay him on his pillow, tuck his blanket around his
shoulders, and go back to bed. It's the middle of the night, after all. I
need my sleep, need to be fresh for work. But this oasis of oblivion, here
in the golden nightlight glow and the sleepy warmth of my son, is too
inviting. The starlings are at bay.

I stay.

© 2002 Lori Erickson

Beside writing, Ms. Erickson is interested in art, classic rock, and RPG's. More information and stories can be found at http://l_e_erickson.tripod.com/.