Squeak

When I was a child I had a bed with spaceship sheets and a headboard that had spindles that had been turned on a lathe. Two of the five spindles were loose and if you turned them at the right speed they would squeal loud enough to be heard clear across the house. I exploited this as a child to get my mother to come to my room when I was frightened or upset. Whispering "Mom" over and over again and hoping somehow she heard me did nothing but when I turned those spindles and made that awful noise I knew that she would come. Of course she didn't arrive with a smile on her face but she was there and I felt safe. I knew everything would be OK. I could handle being in trouble but I could not handle feeling abandoned. I grew stronger as I grew older and I eventually grew out of the habit and over the years made that awful squeak less and less often. I moved past my childhood behaviors and became a man. I have been a father for 9 years now. I have been a husband for about the same. I am alone once again but my mother is not within earshot and besides she is not the one that I yearn to comfort me now. I make it through each day and even most nights. Tonight like many nights before I have let the pain of the day get the best of me and so I sit here on the couch with my wife sleeping in our marriage bed and I shed quiet tears. Tears that I wish screamed like childhood spindles but I know fall silently; unheard and unacknowledged.