Where She First Heard "The Boy Who Cried Wolf"

    They rest their heads on their mother’s shoulders.  Soft afternoon light drifts through the plastic blinds, casting a glow off the peach colored walls.  As they lie on the bed, stories told in a soothing voice float throughout the room.  The older girl traces her right finger along the seams of the quilted comforter and twirls her hair around her left.  She could feel the slight rise and fall of her mother’s body with each breath, and she slows her breathing to match.  On the other side, she imagines her sister doing the same thing.
    She is the last one to fall asleep.  Her mom had been gently rubbing her back to help lull her to sleep, but after a few minutes, she slowed down and then stopped altogether.  The girl makes a movement—a slight readjustment and a sigh loud enough to tell her mother she is still awake.
    Saved for only dire situations, her mother employs the one trick that always worked.
    “If you sleep,” she says, “we’ll go to Timmy’s house when you wake up.”
    The promise of spending time at her cousin’s house makes her so excited that it takes all the strength she has in her body to still herself.  With her arms at her side, her head completely straight, her eyes closed in peaceful concentration, she lets sleep overcome her.  The smile on her face never fades as the three breathe in and out, their bodies softly rising and falling together.
 

Reviews

[dgf,mhkfhjgf]

I really like this. Reminds of a childhood thing I'll have to tell you about sometime.

[Hoshi Nami]

this is wonderful.