By Teresa Dean Smeigh
copyright August 2016
I looked down at him and listened to the baby cries, the sheer panic in the cries. I hugged him tighter to try and let him know he wasn’t alone, but it didn’t work.
My dad tried to quiet him as well. There was no comforting him. I have to admit I hated the noise myself. The fireworks are bad enough, but around here, they still go off over and over again. I myself jump at each one.
We know from experience we will just have to ride it out. Eventually we start to ignore his whimpers. Eventually he barks.
Teresa (Tessa) Dean Smeigh
-Advocate For Mental And Invisible Illnesses
-Author Of Articles, Stories And Poems