The door clicked quietly, but I could hear the shuffling, the whispers, even if I couldn’t see them. I sit up, tired, exasperated, ready to send the tiny feet back to bed, certain she’d heard a funny noise, or couldn’t sleep, or had a tummy ache. But in the dark, I could see them both. One taller, almost as tall as me now. Rounder, too, as if those teenage years are knocking. The other shorter, holding onto babyhood with a pinky finger while I grip it white fisted. Her hair is a curly mess around her cherub face. It is both of them and they’re holding hands. “Mommy, Nora had a bad dream,” my big girl whispers as she shuffles her sister closer. Nora’s breath is labored, although the tears have stopped. “Come here, then”, I pull her into me and hold her while her breathing slows. And, while I do, I hold her sister’s hand. “Everything is just fine, I’m right here.” And I am, I am right here. She leans into me, my baby that loves hugs, and melts just like her favorite snowman. Her big sister, her helper, her friend, her guide, stands by the bed with her hand in mine. “And you, thank you. Thank you for being such a wonderful sister.”
And I’m reminded of the times, the nights, when I guided a tiny hand, held a crying little one, kept him close to me as a child myself. If we woke her, or stirred her, or pushed the wrong button at the wrong time, the fallout wouldn’t be worth the minimal comfort if offered at all. I stood by as the older sister, but as guardian, as parent, as protector. My big girl, though, those aren’t her jobs. Love your sister, be kind, but rest assured that I will always protect you, both of you, to the fullest extend of my ability and then a little more. My little cradled against my shoulder, my big with her hand tightly in mine. My girls, my shadows. Go back to sleep, mommy’s right here.
Light & Dark 