A moving shadow in the dark, she comes to our childhood room. So stealthy on silent feet with arms outstretched, my sister's face she covers with the pillow soft and downy. Dreaming, the soft child's lips are lax. Her breath now stifled, she struggles and rising, pushes against the straining hands. She relents and quickly, quickly snatches the pillow away and disappears, the dark her ally. My sister gasps, regains her breath, not quite awake. In her child's mind, a nightmare stole her breath away.
Yet I, the baby know full well that Mommy will return for me another night that she repeats with me, a battle for my breath. When I fight back, the battle's won.The war will rage, no end in sight, till Mommy is taken away one night. Now many years hence, sometimes while dreaming I suddenly wake and gasp and struggle for my breath.
My mother, long gone and now deceased still haunts my dreaming world at night.
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