EMILY BRONTE AWAKE AT NIGHT as drawn by Joan Hassal

I awoke from a deep sleep by the loud knocking sound that came from downstairs. The pounding at the front door came long after midnight. My husband was working the night shift this week, so I was alone. Pulling the covers off of me, I dropped my legs to the side of the bed. I found my slippers by feeling for them with my feet. The air was chilly. Why was it chilly? I know I bumped the heat up on the thermometer earlier tonight. I mean, the weather forecasters on the nightly news said a cold front was coming. It would arrive in the nightly am hours. I didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night shivering. Who could it be at my front door? Finding my housecoat, I wrapped it around my shoulders, arms, and tied it at the waist. Trying not to make a sound, I exited the bedroom and walked down the hall to the stairs. Why was I being so quiet walking down the stairs? It’s not like anyone outside the front door could hear me. I believe my quietness was fear. I was fearful of my midnight visitor. Who could it be? Why’s it a reason to pound on anyone’s doorway after midnight? My breathing was shallow. Shallow like my breath during a panic attack. I felt I wasn’t getting much air into my lungs.
Would I lose the ability to breathe? “Stop panicking”, I told myself. “Take in slow, steady breaths. You will be okay.” Although my legs felt like jelly, I managed to place my body weight on them. Despite this, my slipper feet touched the foot of the stairs. Outside, I saw a silhouette of a person I didn’t recognize. I noticed that the figure stopped pounding on the door as I stood before it. He must have noticed me from the glow of the lamplight that was in the foyer. I say “he” but I didn’t really know the figure’s gender. It just appeared to be a male from the figure’s build. The only thing between us was a locked door. Should I call the police? Maybe I should call my husband. He would leave work and be right over. Until my midnight visitor spoke. Then I melted. It was my Father. I squeezed my eyebrows in the direction of my nose. In confusion, I unlocked the door and asked, “Why are you here, Daddy?” I said. “I wanted to see my baby girl”, he said as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I inhaled the familiar scent of his shaving cream as I took in a deep sigh of relief. That relief turned to confusion as I again wondered why he was at my house…after midnight. He was here to be for good, right? I was telling myself that to ease the weight I have been holding on to. Cause, honestly, what is “hope for” if it’s not something to “hope for” in your life? There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must make a change. It feels as if the past years were wasted. They have finally realized that they have to pivot. Was my dad feeling this way?

Until Next Time,

Heidi💜