My pillow is calling to me.
But it has to wait.
I head towards the room at the other end of the house.
Anxiety sets in, as I creep into the room.
A lump, hides under the covers. Sleeping soundly. Oblivious.
I try to silently reach the other side of the room. I wear socks, as if that will make my footsteps quieter.
But each step feels like an elephant stomp.
Each breath feels like a tornado rattling the blinds, so I hold my breath.
The beat of my heart sounds like a welcoming drumming celebration offered by a village tribe on a tropical island.
I breathlessly stomp to the other side of the room, carefully watching the slumbered lump, praying it won’t wake.
I reach for the empty “golden” artefact and cradle it in my hands. A symbol of innocence, imagination, and happiness.
In that moment I am the creator of dreams and fantasies.
The lump grunts, my heart skips, I make haste out of the room.
2 minutes later I return.
The ritual starts again, this time the artefact is returned filled to the brim with all the glory and essence of childhood.
If the lump awakes in that moment, I am the destroyer of dreams and fantasies.
I escape to the kitchen and return my heartbeat and breath back to normal.
Anxiety sets in again, now for bedroom number two.
Once the pilgrimage is over, I sigh relief.
Triumph in my success.
Innocence survives another year.
I am the creator of glitter in their eyes.
I am the creator of excitement and inability to fall asleep easily the night before.
I am the creator of joy, magic and dreams that come true.
I am the creator of happy endings.
Happy Easter 2018