a true story about loss & repair
The T-Rex That Guarded Her Room
His guard post by the door is empty, and she gets smaller before she can say a word.
the realization
I kept trying to swap in a new comfort, and every calm reason I offered just made her shrink. She didn't need a replacement. She needed me to take the missing guard seriously and let her show me how he did his job.
Every night that little T-Rex stood facing the door, teeth out, so he could watch it while she slept. Tonight his spot was empty. She noticed before I did. Her whole body just went quiet and small, and I could tell she felt it before she had the words for it.
have you ever felt this way too?
So I did the tired-mom thing. Here, this bear's cozy too. We'll find him in the morning, I promise. I kept reasoning, kept offering, kept being reasonable. And the more I talked, the smaller she got. I checked under the bed. Nothing there. And for one second my own stomach dropped a little too.
So I quit fixing. I sat down next to her and said it plain. Without your guard the whole room feels darker, huh. Then, show me how he kept watch. She climbed up and set me right where he used to stand, facing the door.
Teeth out, I whispered. We've got it tonight. I held the post the way he did. And her shoulders finally let go.
what I found myself saying
"Without your guard the whole room feels darker, huh."
"Show me how he kept watch."
"Teeth out. We've got it tonight."
