Early Morning Sun

Her eyes fluttered slightly as the thin ray of light fell across her face. The stiffness of her form began to push through the dream-like state and bring reality crashing to the forefront. She had fallen asleep sitting on the hardwood floor, bent to lay her upper half on the side of the small cot. Her hair haphazardly fell from the loose bun she had thrown it into yesterday.

Sitting up with an involuntary groan, her dark gaze looked to the now peaceful form of her sleeping child. A hesitant hand reaching to brush back soft strands from the child’s forehead as she felt an inward relief as the fingertips felt cool, smooth skin.

Just mere hours before a storm had raged in this cramped cabin. She had knelt by the small cot and watched as her youngest shivered and moaned. She had wrung out cloth after cloth, placing them on the burning temples while uttering soothing words trying to keep out any trace of the underlying fear. Gentle, stroking fingers, soft lullabies and stories of giants and princesses, were offered in comfort to the pain wracked little body. Shaking fingers had held the crude wooden spoon to dribble cooling water between those small lips. Terse words had been spoken to the older two to stay away lest they be in the same situation.

Exhaustion had crept into her body as she prayed and hovered over the writhing, heated form. She had bartered with the heavens to let her baby live. The little one was too young to be taken and had so much life to live. She had refused when her burly husband had awkwardly offered to take up post next to the small cot. No this was her battle, this was her post. She would fight this one out for her baby and hope for a victory.

Her muscles had cramped, limbs fallen to sleep but never did she waver from her place. Along with the strength of perseverance coursing through her veins was a parallel helplessness at not being able to just kiss the pain away. Oh but to take the pain upon herself would be easier than having to sit by and watch. Alas all that could be offered was a steadfast watch and tender consolation.

Finally in the wee hours of morning, when the world was glazed in an ethereal light, the writhing had calmed and the heated skin cooled. She had drooped against the small cot in almost disbelief that the worst had passed. No longer having to stay alert and aware, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep in her bent position.

Now in the hush of the cabin, she reveled in the morning sunlight peaking around the threadbare curtains. The golden rays seemed to represent more today than any others thus far. Today the light banished the fear that had lurked in the dark shadows of the night and revealed hope.








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