Very, very, very early this morning, I was wakened by my young daughter, "Mommy, can I snuggle with you?"
I flipped back the comforter to let her in, asking, "What's wrong, sweetie-pie?"
"I had a bad dream about ghosts," she answered as she spooned her body against mine.
When I was child, I used to have nightmares that drove me to my mother's bed and I remember vividly how brave I had to be to get up the stairs to her bedroom. I wondered if Ruthie's ghosts haunted our stairwell the same way snakes had haunted mine.
I'm grateful my mom never told me to go back to my own bed. She always pulled the covers back for me and always soothed those snakes away. Although it would make sense that this would be picture of my mom, I had to make do with illustrating the
warm fuzzies she gave, and still gives, to me (and, yes, my warm fuzzies are pink).
