As the black jungle cat prowls through the night seeking out its next victim, so you have started again, restless raoming through the house when all should be asleep.
You already have the sheets and covers torn off the bed, scrambled on the floor. The mattress lopsided only partly on the frame. The summer air is hot and close as you steal down the steps using your body to guard my ascent up the stairs to my bed that is awaiting my slumber.
Your head down ready for the assult, like a ram whose head comes a straight dead hit into the middle. You fight to prevent our time of rest.
Again, I slip to the hiding place to grab the keys. My locking the doors of unused rooms is taken personal, as a taunt that causes more extremes. Yet , to leave the items behind the doors vulnerable to your destruction, or access for you to use as weapons are more dangerous.
Daring to take a moment to check on the others sleeping, letting them know of our time of wrestling to come, they answer and fall back to sleep as though all is normal. Sadly, to them this is normal.
I have now learned that not only do you need to sleep in my room so all are safe, but, that I need to lock us in, you and I. For you pivot over the rails to your sisters bunk bed, ranting and raving, swooping and jumping over furniture.
I catch you to prevent your own harm. I ask myself the motivation. Is it to protect you? Protect us? Or to prevent any questions against me later from medical Personnel or other commynity authorities.
My emotion, thoughts and feelings having no priority for the moment. It is pure instinctive survival. The key is clutched in my left hand so I have quick access in getting us into the room, or letting us out as the need of safety indicates.
My right hand free to block the blows you throw my way. I attempt to rest yet so vigilant, leaving my glasses on all my senses alert.
I pray wondering, "How long will it last this night?"
(Scholl, I am Your Mother, You are my Child, July 23,2006.)