Big Tough Mama
by Rhiannon (sic)
Her boys think she is one tough Mama. Her oldest says he knows that she is tough and that she’ll protect him. She can kill spiders and wasps, scare away spectres, and beat up the bad guys without batting an eye, he tells her. She laughs as she says, “Put ‘em up, put ‘em up!” and dances around him, fists in the air.
He doesn’t know that she is scared of boogeymen.
Real boogeymen. Ones that know her. Ones that hurt her. Ones that want her dead.
She laughs as she double checks the locks. Smiles and hugs and reassures her sweet little men, secretly trying to reassure herself, telling them that there is no such thing as monsters, lying through her teeth.
She has known them herself, stared them down as they have ripped at her and taken from her.
She tells these precious boys that there is no such thing as ghosts, though she has encountered them, been haunted by them, exorcised some on occasion.
She stays strong now. Keeps them safe now. They will find out on their own someday, and this thought hurts as she tucks them in, kisses their foreheads. But, not now. Now, she is their protector. Now, she can keep them as far from the monsters as possible.
Downstairs, she checks the alarm, listens for the boogeyman, sings a lullabye to herself as she climbs the stairs. Humming it now. Boys asleep, peaceful, dreaming, secure. She sits on the floor next to their beds, tucks her legs underneath her, lays her head next to her youngest’s pillow.
She longs for a strong embrace, a security blanket, reassuring words, but there are none there. So, she wraps her arm around him and drifts off. Big Tough Mama.
Posted by Modus Operandi 
