Freshly bathed, the heat and dust of the day washed down the drain, I am dressed in a soft cotton nightie and tucked in between crisply ironed sheets. Prayers have been said, and "good nights." The door is closed, and the window open.
It's not yet dark, and I have made token protest at being sent to bed. Once there, however, the twilight works it magic.
Muted music of the evening comes in that open window. Voices of older children playing tag among the fireflies. An occasional strand of a radio melody. The quiet reassurance of the mourning doves. It is cool enough that I am glad of my blanket.
My room has become a world of its own; a magical place. I think of the stories of toys that come to life at night, as I struggle to make out the familiar face of my teddy bear in the gloaming. I am drifting off into the purple peace.
Suddenly, a roar! My eyes fly open, and I see a huge moving shadow on my wall, and the roar gets louder and more persistent. The shadow grows up over the ceiling! I am sure it's some sort of monster, coming to get me. I scream!
I am still screaming! I don't hear the footsteps on the stairs, but the door opens, and there is my mother, with a hug to quiet my fears. She lets me get up, and draws me gently to the window, where she can show me that the shadow is just the shadow of our neighbour's teenage son. He is working on his motorcycle in the alley behind our houses; tinkering by the light of a lantern set on the ground.
When Mother goes back downstairs, I convince her to leave the hall light on, and my door ajar.
For a long time, I listen the the comforting murmur of conversation and the clink of spoons on saucers as Mom and Dad have an evening cup of tea in the living room below.
Reassured, I sleep.
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