She's sleeping.
The night has her for now.
But it never lasts long.
She'll wake soon
And commence her routine.
Her nightly watch.
She wakes
Making no noise
But I know she's awake now
She slips from the dark comfort of sleep
Into the silent, sleeping world.
Sliding from between the sheets
And her watch begins.
Tonight, like most nights.
I stand and watch her.
Standing beside the small bed.
Staring down at the sleeping child.
Looking after him.
Protecting him.
Although he's not hers.
He stirs in his sleep
Sensing her presence maybe
She smooths his hair from his forehead
A curl wraps around her finger and she smiles
He quiets and falls deeper asleep...safe.
How hard is this for her I wonder?
To care for a child, who's not her own.
But she does it selflessly
Without pause.
From the very first day, he was never a stranger to her.
He was my son.
I asked her not long ago
How she felt about having him here.
She simply smiled and said.
"He's part of you...that makes him part of me."
Even after 5 years.
She can still leave me speechless.
I had expected acceptance from her.
That's just her way.
But not this...
I don't know what to call it.
Love maybe...is that what this is?
I guess it must be.
She fears for him.
In our world it's only practical.
He's my child, that makes him a target.
So she stands guard.
Night after night
His protector.
My protector.
The Nightwatch.