At night, after the house is asleep, I lay in bed. Legs and arms tucked close to my body. One toe touching my husband, an anchor. I dare not sleep with even one appendage hanging over the edge of the bed. The monsters take refuge under the bed. They also lurk in the closet, behind the dresser and in shadowy spots. I watch the lights play on the ceiling and try not to notice the dark corners. Some nights, I can turn my head and doze off, happy thoughts keeping the creatures at bay. Others, sleep eludes me and I watch. And I listen.
When I think I can take it no more, I will lean over and switch on the video monitor for a peek at Sophie. Her sleeping form is a calming force. The unlikely positions she favors a source of entertainment. I marvel that she can sleep with her arms or legs dangling between the slats of her crib. She is singularly unconcerned with what might be lurking outside.
Her absolute certainty of her security leaves no room for these nighttime visitors. She doesn't have any monsters yet.
I hope she never does.