Good Night

"I'm afraid of the dark." Or that's what I've been telling myself for so many years. I'll blame it on the night I was taking out the trash. Must have been a cloudy because not even the stars lit my way down the driveway. All was well, though, until I heard a rustle. Just a crinkle of leaves. A mysterious sound from behind the tree. Then out pounced...no one. But my fear was pure electricity--a bolt of lightning--that sent sparks flying for hours up and down my spine. 

I left work tonight after dark. They're calling for rain tomorrow, so the inky sky offered no reprieve as I headed across the field toward home. Other nights, I've found myself reaching for my phone. Turn on the flashlight. Call a loved one. But not tonight, I decided, and told myself I'd be fine. One step at at time, until I saw the warm glow from my back porch just through the trees. I was confident that if the leaves crinkled, it was a rabbit burrowing in for a rest. Just as I trusted I would, when I made it safely home.