When I was a little girl, say four or five years old, there were many things that frightened me: Snakes, bugs, big older boys and storms. I remember the dark, rainy nights when a thunderstorm would roll into town and wake me from a sleep, in my childhood room at the front end of the house.
The rain would beat on my window as shadows played games on my bedroom walls. Tree branches screeched against the outside of the house making strange noises. I’d lay there, so afraid, nearly ready to cry. Poking my little foot out from under the covers, I’d slide out of my warm bed and tiptoe quietly into the next room where my mother and daddy slept.
And then, as I had done so many times before, I would crawl over the foot board at the bottom of the bed and make my way over the top of the covers between my mom and dad, looking for a secure place to lay my head between their two pillows.
Dad would roll over and say, “Hey, little girl, what’s going on?”
“I’m afraid in my room. It’s storming.”
Then without another word, the three of us would snuggle close together and go back to sleep. Just my mom and my dad . . . and me.
Morning would come, the sun shining. A new day would begin.
When I was a grown-up girl, not quite twenty years old, there were many things that still frightened me: School, jobs, big older boys and getting married. I remember the days leading up to my wedding day. Parties, planning and packing for the honeymoon. Writing thank-you notes. Ironing my veil and cleaning out my closet for the last time. Last-minute lists. The rehearsal dinner.
It was finally here - the night before my wedding day. I went to bed, tired. Very tired from all the weeks of preparation.
I lay there, so afraid, nearly ready to cry. Poking my foot out from under the covers, I slid out of my warm bed and tiptoed quietly into the next room where my mother and daddy slept.
And then, as I had done so many times before, I crawled over the foot board at the bottom of the bed and made my way over the top of the covers between my mom and dad, looking for a secure place to lay my head between their two pillows.
Dad rolled over and said, “Hey, little girl, what’s going on?”
“I’m afraid in my room. I’m getting married tomorrow.”
Then without another word, the three of us snuggled close together and went back to sleep. Just my mom and my dad . . . and me.
Morning came, the sun shining. A new day in my life was beginning.