Admissions of fear

We put our daughter to bed, and eat our dinner. A heaviness hangs in the air. Since Saturday, we've been the tough guys. Prepared for anything, unphased by everything. Whatever emotions we have felt, they have been our own.

I gaze up at my husband, across the table, across the now empty plates. "I was pretty scared on Saturday", I attempt to slice through the air. He looks up, "me too". We get up and embrace. The stress lifts. "Actually, make that, I was very scared", I dig deeper. "I was so scared, I cowered behind the water tank", he opens up. We dig deeper still. We joke. We laugh. We cry.