He hummed to himself the nursery rhymes his mother used to sing him when he was a small boy. During particularly heavy storms, when lighting tore the sky apart in a flash of light and the thunder bellowed like the forges of a thousand smiths, hammering a thousand swords into shape, the kind figure of his mother emerged from beyond the door, with a kind and warm smile
"Are you alright honey" She would say with a soft voice
He would only squirm into his sheets, petrified by fear
"Oh baby" She would say as she approached the lip of the bed to sit in it "It´s only a storm, we´ve been through this before haven´t we?"
He would continue to hide under his cover
"My, it seems someone is scared, maybe a little song I know might help"
And with that his head would pop off the sheets, as his mom began humming a song. Softly, and filled with love, for no love can a human feel that is deeper and more genuine than the love a mother feels for her son.
A few minutes is all she needs to make her little guy fall completely asleep. She would kiss his forehead and head to bed herself, spent and tired from working all day, but she couldn´t show that, not a crack. If she showed weakness, then from whom would her son draw strength from? No, he could never see that, the sag in her walk, the eye bags and the fading smile once it served its purpose
From whom indeed...
From whom will you draw strength now? Who will tuck you in now that is cold and dank?
You are a man now, and as such you will live with what you´ve done. Humming all the songs in the world won´t undo what you did...
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