I remember

The sound of scraping against the floor above me nudged me from my sleep. I had heard that noise about the same time every morning during the week-long visit to my grandparents' house.

What was that?

I decided that this was the morning I would investigate. I slipped beyond the warm sheets and scrambled upstairs from the basement bedroom that was my own for the next couple days. I could hear my grandma and grandpa talking quietly. The door to the kitchen was open just enough for me to peer into the softly lit room.

My grandparents were on their knees praying, bending over their kitchen chairs. I stood very still not wanting them to hear me. I was instantly embarrassed, knowing I was intruding on an intimate conversation. I slowly backed up avoiding the part of the floor I knew creaked with my weight when I walked across it. Before I turned to go downstairs I heard my name. I held my breath and listened. They were praying for me and my family. I listened for as long as I dared then scurried back to my bed.

Upon returning to my room I stopped think about what I had seen and heard. I didn't know if I was imagining things but it seemed as if my grandparents had begun to speak louder when they said my name. Had they known I was standing there? It didn't come up later that morning at breakfast and I didn't dare mention it.

I have thought about it often over the years. I was very young but I will always remember that prayer.

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