In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fearful Symmetry.”
“Sing for me.”
She looked up from her book into his clear blue eyes.
“Sing for me, Mama.”
She laughed and ruffled his hair.
“Six is a little too old for lullabies,” she said, picking him up and carrying him to bed.
“Seventy isn’t too old for lullabies,” he said confidently. She laughed and kissed his forehead as she started humming her favourite tune.
Simon hummed her favourite tune as he tucked his mother into bed. She smiled as she drifted asleep, just as content as she was forty years ago. Seventy was not too old for lullabies.