Held

Storms again last night, and I lay in the after-thunder silence, holding my breath, counting the seconds until you yelled for me, but then the lightning came, and in the after-white, the room glowed hard and magical, but still nothing from you, and so I went to you and stood above you and held my hand on your back to make sure you were breathing--will there ever be a night when I don't do this?--and I spoke to you, asked if you were scared, if you needed me to hold you, but you slept so soundly, and I told you how I loved you, and I said, it's okay, and said it again, a bit louder, once more, even louder, but still you slept. Finally, I let you to your dreams, and I went to the room next door and crawled in bed, woke your father, made him hold me until the storm finally passed.