Fear

“I’m scared.” Her eyes opened wide and the tears, which had been perched on the edge of her lower lid, made their escape. Her flushed cheeks glistened with the wetness.

I rubbed her back, my hand making slow circles against her cotton shirt. “I know you are,” I said. “But it will pass.”

I stopped there and left so many things unsaid. I had no idea where the future would lead or what it held in store, but I knew that living in the past was not the solution. I knew that ignoring the symptoms wouldn’t make them go away. I knew that, no matter what, we’d be there for her. I knew that soon, she wouldn’t even remember the fear, so that yes, it sure would pass.

At least for her.

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Christina Consolino is a mother, dreamer, author, editor and teacher from Dayton, Ohio. She's a member of the Plot Sisters and teaches Anatomy & Physiology at Sinclair Community College. She writes women's fiction, young adult fiction, personal essays, and more.

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