"Mom?" she repeats. "What are we going to do now?"

"We're going to put the food away and make some dinner! Anyone want to have cereal for dinner?"

The boys take the distraction bait and eagerly put away the food and hurry get out bowls and spoons. My daughter and I finish putting away the rest of what they left behind, eager to dig in to their new treasures.

She glances over her shoulder at her brothers, then looks at me and quietly says, "Mom, you know what I mean. What are we going to do now?"

"We're going to do our best and take it one day at a time. Don't worry. We'll be fine, we always are. Grab your cereal and join the boys at the table."

She sighs and does as asked. She's so strong and yet so young inside. Sometimes she seems to be my peer, but I remember that she needs to be a child and remind myself that if I pull her up to the responsibilities of an adult, she will lose what little is left of her childhood.

"Who needs milk?"

In just a few minutes, the cares of the day, the heat of the walk and the arduous tasks ahead are forgotten. We're eating Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops, Cocoa Crispies and Chocolate milk. Comfort food! We deserve it; we need it just now. This simple little act, the ability to choose a type of cereal, is new and exciting. We get slight stomach aches from all the sugar, but it is a fun stomach ache! One we chose, one we likely won't choose again.

We go through the motions of the rest of the day, learning our way through the building and getting our room settled in better to fit our needs. We have one dresser with four drawers. Each of us gets a drawer. We have one closet with no hangers, but it doesn't matter... we have no clothes to hang up. The kids have only what they brought with them on the plane and I have what I brought with me in the truck; enough for a few days of clothing each. One pair of shoes and no coats. One towel each and small sample shampoos and soaps we'd received in the shelter, toothbrushes, a single brush, hot rollers (believe it or not!). I won't go anywhere 'au naturale.'

We each have a bed with a plastic covered mattress, no box spring and each has one sheet with no mattress pad between the sheet and plastic surface; a grave reminder that this is not home and no matter what we do, it will never be 'home.' We each have a thin pillow provided by the shelter and our own little travel pillows we brought with us on the trek; my own pet peeve.

In order to create some sort of continuity in our lives, we begin and end our day in family and then private prayer, then I sing them a lullaby to help them drift off into fitful sleep. It is a lullaby they know well. I've sung it to all my children every night since they were born. Their thoughts drift off to better places and they close their eyes trusting I will find the answers we seek, protect them from harm and make a better life for us. I pray quietly that I can overcome my fears enough to live up to what they see in me.

I kiss their foreheads and tuck them in to bed. I open the window and turn on the fan in the third floor window to circulate the hot July air, then sit down on my bed to let my aching legs rest, singing softly as they drift off to sleep.

"You came from a land where all is light...
to a world half day and a world half night.
To guide you by day you have my love
and to guide you by night, your friends above...

so... sleep, sleep 'til the darkness ends
guarded by your angel friends...
so... sleep, sleep 'til the darkness ends
guarded by your angel friends.


There is one stands softly by your bed
and another stands close with a hand on your head
There is one at the window watching for the dawn
and one waits to wake you when the night is gone...

so... sleep, sleep 'til the darkness ends
guarded by your angel friends...
so... sleep, sleep 'til the darkness ends
guarded by your angel friends."
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