Just me and Hubert
It is raining, and I wonder what to do. The little droplets patters onto the porch steps, like a music box that is broken.
I’ve heard music boxes lots before. We had one in our house. It was Mummy’s. She loved it, because it played Tis So Sweet To Trust in Jesus. Then when she left us, Daddy put it away. Now I don’t ever get to hear it anymore. Daddy says Mummy is with Jesus now, and it must be true, because Jesus is in my heart. And now, I can feel that Mummy is there too, so I know she really is with Him. I have them both.
Daddy cries a lot. Sometimes, he is like the clouds. The ones that are above right now. Tears pattering down. I’ve never seen him do it before... only after Mummy left. He sounds like the rain. Like a music box that is broken.
I think maybe I make him sad. He looks at me sometimes, and then his shoulders start to tremble and he turns away. I know he’s not laughing. He used to, but he doesn’t anymore. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I know I make Daddy cry.
So, I thought I’d go stay with Mrs. Jefferson. Forever. At least, until Daddy is happy with me again.
Mrs. Jefferson lives far, far away. Eleven blocks, actually! It’s going to take a while to walk there, especially in the rain, but I’m all packed, and I don’t want to have to take my nightie out of the suitcase. That would be a bother.
I guess I ought to go now! The rain doesn’t look like it will stop. My glasses will get drops on them.
I frown, pulling my little plaid suitcase to the edge of the stairs. Tucked under my arm is Hubert. He’s my stuffed rabbit, with ears that dangle to his legs. He’s filled with cotton, but Mummy sewed a big pink heart bead in when he ripped one day, and if I feel with my thumb just above his tummy, I can touch it. I can remember how it sparkled before she put it in, like the rain.
Hubert tells me, “Emma, everything is going to be A-ok! It’s just you and me, but I can protect you. What else is a rabbit friend around for?”
I take the first step down, jerking my little suitcase after me. A raindrop hits my nose. Maybe it’s a five year old raindrop. Then it would be the same age as me.
More sprinkle against my face, dotting onto my glasses. I had better hurry, or I’ll be wet.
Maybe Mrs. Jefferson will give me hot chocolate when I get there.
Let me know in the comments below what you think!
Have a lovely day!