Childhood Memory

 I was reading a blog yesterday in which the writer mentioned how, as a child, she would have felt unsafe if her parents were not in charge, and it brought back a childhood memory.

I was 7 or 8 years old and had been brought to the hospital with a fairly severe concussion. After making me stay awake for some time, they finally got me admitted and into a room and told me I could go to sleep.

I was having no part of that, and continued to fight hard to stay awake. “It’s okay, William,” they kept telling me, “you can go to sleep now.” I refused and continued to fight the sandman. I wasn’t entirely sure why it was not okay, but I was just not comfortable letting sleep take me.

Then I heard my father’s voice out in the hallway and I was asleep before he made it into the room.