Gina sat on the stairs with her son in her lap, looking out at the sea and the lights from the capital as the evening turned to night.
"Mommy, why is the sky red?"
"Hmm, because of the bright lights in the city."
"But the city lights were never that bright before. Is it because of the thunder that happens every night?"
"How did you figure that out?"
"It is?" The boy asked excitedly, turning around to look at her.
Gina hugged her son and rocked him gently. "It is."
"Will there be thunder tonight again?"
"I don't know. Does the thunder frighten you?"
The boy looked up at the sky and nodded.
"Come, let us go inside. If we sleep early tonight, we won't hear the thunder."
Gina took her son indoors. After securing the doors and windows, she picked up his favourite book and got into bed.
"Will you read for me tonight, or am I going to have to read again?" she asked playfully, tugging at his nose.
The boy threw the covers over his head and hid his face against Gina's arm.
"You read. I promise I'll read tomorrow," he said quietly.
Gina picked up the boy and settled his head over her heart. She held the book in one hand and laid her free hand over his ear. Gina read the story with much fervour, capturing the young boy's imagination.
But the thunder started early tonight. Almost as though the gods intended to frighten the boy deliberately. When the thunder started, Gina stopped reading and pressed her hand against her son's ear. As the thunder echoed and vibrated through the air, he would hear it against the backdrop of her heartbeat.
Gina held her son tighter as his little hands gathered in her nightgown. She also hummed a familiar tune, tapping the rhythm against his back. Anything she could do to drown out the sound of the thunder that so scared him made the night easier to bear.
At first light, a gale blew violently against the house, stirring up dust and leaves. A tin can toppled and rolled around loudly. The lumber slabs at the side of the house lost their balance and crashed to the ground.
The ruction woke Gina and her son. They stayed in bed, listening to the racket as it calmed down. A knock at the door startled them both. They waited, but no one called out. So it wasn't one of their neighbours. The knocking came again. Gina jumped out of bed and quickly changed out of her nightgown.
Dressed and now fully alert, she took a cleaver from the kitchen and made her way to the door. When she opened the door, a man in uniform saluted, handed her a letter, and left.
As Gina read the letter, tears ran down her face, and her knees buckled.
"Is it from Papa?" Asked her son, peering out from behind the bedroom door.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
