A Round of Should

It happened, and the first time, Jack called me up to his room, not telling me he was scared but I could tell he was. I tried gathering more information but he refused to elaborate on anything. He just laid there on his stomach, right side of his face on his hands atop the pillow, facing me with weighted lids. Then he said it, “Ghosts.” I asked him what he meant and he said “I don’t know,” and it was clear he didn’t want to elaborate. So I sat with him. “Will you cuddle?” he said. I stretched beside him holding my head up with my angular left arm, left ear in palm and with my right I rubbed his back, told him that nothing can get him, “Daddy’s here, buddy,” I repeated. For a bit he didn’t say a word. I was sure he fell into some sleep or eased state right above slumbered dormancy. But then he said, “It’s raining?” “No,” I told him, after confessing that I was hungry and wanted to eat dinner. He then asked me what I was eating, I told him Mommy made chicken, whereupon he insisted “I like chicken.” I changed the topic, back to us, there hanging out, and that he was very much safe with Daddy there.

He asked that we keep the lights on, after Mommy investigated the scene coming upstairs. I wanted to stay for a bit more but I knew I had to let him be alone, in his room, confronting whatever it was in his head that had him spooked. And I was again taught something by my little Beat. That I have to turn around sometimes, I very much should, and let him figure out the moment, to face fear and suppress it, defeat it. I don’t hear anything from him now. I check, and he’s asleep. Wonder if he’ll remember tomorrow.