Sleepily I lift my eyelids to see where I am. A dark arm with pink satin on it is holding me. The room is dark, but somehow I am not afraid. My favorite lullaby is playing out loud, filling the room with its soft rhythm. My lids begin to close again. Lying in her arms is like lying on a cloud, soft, warm, and comforting. She hums along to the lullaby. Her voice is silky and gentle. The chair rocks back and forth, and with every backward swing, my eyelids sink deeper. Sleep is so inviting in this moment, but I know if I fall asleep I will wake up in my cage, or as she calls it, my crib. I fight to stay awake but the darkness is inevitable.

My eyes open, I am about to be laid down in my crib. I let a whine escape my lips just loud enough for her to hear. Her lips graze my forehead as she pulls me securely back against her body and begins humming again. The crib is so uninviting. It isn't warm like her.
Most importantly, it is unfamiliar and that frightens me. Every time I am
placed in my crib, I feel overwhelmed. The darkness overcomes me and the walls
seem to close in.

We are rocking again, back and forth, back and forth, until I find my eyes closing again. This time I didn't wake up to my mother’s loving face, soft skin, and warm smile. I feel vulnerable and naked. My security is stripped from me. I am in that unfamiliar cage and an uneasy feeling begins to creep over me. I roll over to see if she is in the big, soft, blue rocking chair, but to no avail. My heart picks up speed, as if I am running, my mouth gets dry, and a drip of sweat rolls down my forehead. I close my eyes and think of
safety, I think of her. She’s the light shining in the darkness giving me hope.

My eyes pop open as the car hits that familiar bump on the road. I am home. I cannot wait to tell her all about my first week away from home. College is so new, so unfamiliar, so scary. I do not know anyone, and nobody knows me. There are so many people that go to school here and yet I have no friends yet. I blend in with everyone else, just another face in the crowd that nobody cares enough to acknowledge. Having to live on my own, with no mom to find my missing items, or to cook me food, or to tell me I am valued, is harder than I thought it would be. The door swings open, I see the familiar brown, leather couch, and the picture of Jesus with his arms outstretched out on the wall by the kitchen. The table is cluttered as always and I can smell the chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. I look around and there she is, arms open wide, ready for an embrace. Every worry in my head vanishes as I wrap my arms around her. All anxiety and fear of college and my new life has left, and even now I find comfort in her warm embrace.