I awoke to the sound of rain splattering against our window; the air was far too warm for the need for the blankets wrapped around our bodies. But, while it was not needed for the warmth, it was much needed for the embrace, for the comfort of being wrapped in never-ending warmth.
I'd asked him to sleep, to put his restless mind to rest, and that even a minute would be good enough. Though he did close his eyes, he never quite lay asleep. It was too noisy for him to sleep. His mind.
So, I listened to his stories—stories told to clear his mind, a distraction.
"...we went inside the rose maze and hid from the warriors," he chuckled, continuing his story. "They couldn't find us for a whole day."
He was telling me stories about his mother, about what a wonderful person she was. His praises of her were ceaseless, never-ending. His love for both his mother and his father was like the sky and the ground—incomparable.
