Hudson, our three year old, is afraid of the dark.
All our words go to convincing him that there is nothing to fear, but when we go to head out of his bedroom door, panic sets in.
Sleep eludes us all, whether in the early evening, the middle of the night wakening or the shadow of morning as his urgent feet carry him up to our room, desperate for assurance, for love, for peace.
I fight it, wanting to control, to box, to fix. All my resentment on show. My shadow self insistent on ‘enforcing the rules’.
Moments of realisation, bursts of insight hit through the fog.
He needs you right now.
Not my rules, my containers, the superstitious methods that worked on elder brothers. My son needs a practical love that will meet his need.
To know peace.
These battles will pass. But if I cling to the ways that feel comfortable instead of seeing the person in front of me, I miss a chance to experience love in a measure unknown previously.
Pain bursts open new areas for introspection, for reconciliation….for healing.
This post is a part of a link up for Five Minute Friday, a community of fellow writers who write for 5 minutes every Friday together on a prompt.