You were the only thing I could depend on. I was, am, afraid of the dark and knew that when I opened my window you'd always be there to show me there were no such thing as monsters.

At night, during another hospital trip, another ride to mothers. You made funny faces at me from the car window. You took time out of your busy night to make sure nothing remotely close to a frown threatened my small lips and checkerboard smile.

You were the first pinky promise. You were nightlight when the bulb blew, were the first to shush me through sleep disrupting nightmares. You were the first crack in my jar of trust.

That one cloudy night I called to you and you weren't there. Not there to whisper me "shh, it's okay." To whisper to me lullabies, the Stars said you took off that night, had a prior engagement, important plans, after you swore to me that you'd be there and that was my first lesson on how unreliable the world is.

When even nature betrays you, disobeys God after you promised him, after he trusted you to care for me, look over me, that's when I learned even the meant to be thins fall short of pulling through sometimes.

The night you decided to return, I looked to you with curled lip and wet face and checkerboard teeth, and your back was turned to me.

What a cold night it was and I've now grown accustom to turned backs and cold shoulders and dead stares. Maybe that's why I welcome winter with open arms.

It's been years since I've rang your phone or knocked on your door or called your name for contort. It's been years since I've trusted a promise, since I've locked pinkies, since I've spoken to God or been sung a lullaby.

But last night, while insomnia played tag with the sandman, I heard your hushed voice in the breeze that tore through the screen of my window.

I felt you soft hand on my back, the silk of your voice in my ear and the lock of your pinky in mine and for a second, I swore I headed my jar of trust binding together once more.