When it seemed that my parents would find me silently crying in the hall if I stayed curled up there a moment longer, I went upstairs. I wasn’t ready for bed, though. Who knows what nightmares were lurking behind my eyelids ready to pounce and feed off my fears this evening.

I went to Devon’s room. She was half covered by her blanket, having rolled in her sleep. I gently disentangled her and pulled the covers up to her neck. She was so peaceful, serene. She was beautiful, with her curls wisping away over her pillow and long lashes resting on her cheeks. I sighed. I wasn’t going to cry anymore.

I stood up and gazed at her. It was as if I needed her sleeping form to give me inspiration, an answer. I stared for a long time. I stared until my fears disappeared and my mind cleared.

When I turned to go, I noticed both of my parents silhouetted in the doorway. My dad had his hand comfortingly on my mom’s shoulder. She held it. They smiled sadly at me, obviously admiring my silent display of love.

I went to bed.