Intruders.

We stood there frozen, limbs paralyzed, unable to move or speak. The two men carrying knives sneered and their eyes darted furiously, believing they had caught us. Just as I was mustering the courage to say something, anything, in an effort to scare them off, the distinct double click of a rifle cocking echoed around us. I looked intently at the robbers, thinking it was a weapon from their stash, but saw nothing. Then a voice, soft yet severely sharp, came from behind me, “Get out of my house right now or I’ll blow your heads to kingdom come.” It was momma. She had come in through the patio door, grabbing Daddy’s gun on the mantle on her way. Later we realized it wasn’t loaded, but that didn’t matter in the moment. The two men, faces frustrated but knowing their position, skittered out of the door quickly and into the night. Janie and I fell into Momma’s arms and cried. I sobbed harder than I had even at Daddy’s funeral. It was like the trauma of this horrifying experience had broken the dam I had built inside me after such immense loss. The lack of Momma’s tenderness over the last months didn’t matter in that moment of motherly protection. That was the first time she had truly hugged us in many months since our worlds had been turned upside down. I had no idea what the morning would bring, but in some small way, I thanked these two men for unintentionally breaking the walls that had so quickly been built between us, even if for a moment.