This time the Monsters are real

Monsters lurked under the bed and crouched in the closet when our boys were young.

I heard the boys stirring through the door we left ajar. Peeking in, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a monster under the bed, ” one whispered. But who could tell in the dim light that shown from the hall?

I told them, “There’s no monster.”

For good measure I added, “Monsters aren’t real.” But, they didn’t believe me. When you’re young, monsters are real. It doesn’t matter what grown ups say.

Believe:

One night I believed the monsters were real.

“Shhhh!! Where are they?” I whispered with the concern only monsters inspire. By this time I was crouching, arms extended, like a ninja warrior.

“Under the bed, ” Mark the younger, whispered from the lower bunk. (Matt had claimed the upper bunk due to higher status.) I dove under the bed grabbing the monster by the throat. He nearly bit me, but he didn’t.

Arms flailing and legs kicking, I wrestled the beast. I almost went under. Eventually, the beast weakened enough for me to drag him out and run to the bathroom – where I flushed the monster down.

Breathless, but emboldened, I returned to whisper, “Any more monsters in here?” Matt whispered, there’s one in the closet. Surprisingly, I defeated that one as well.

It’s comforting when someone believes the monsters are real.

The people around you see monsters; you’re harsh, someone else got the promotion, they’re under-appreciated and over-worked.

It doesn’t matter if you believe harshness is a monster under the bed or not.

You might try, “Oh, please forgive me. I didn’t intend to be harsh. What can I do to show my gentle side?”