They sleep together

They sleep together now; Dora and Lightening McQueen somehow existing in the same space. At first I believed the results would turn out to be an unmitigated disaster. They are so different.  Like two galaxies caught together in a dangerous dance, eventually they would collide, their gravitational pull making it impossible to waltz without stepping on the others toes. I braced myself for the screams and tears as I stood with my ear pressed against the door. Silence. After a few minutes I stepped back, alarmed. Had one killed the other before I had finished exiting their room?

I slowly and quietly slipped away, tip toeing down the stairs to my waiting husband who was absorbed in a television show. With furrowed brow I strained to hear the beginning of the end. But it never came. What once was merely daytime play has morphed and from the ashes a new understanding was created: Two against the night is better than one.

When blackness descends and shadows grow long; they no longer call for me. The monster under the bed, the creature in the closet, the moonlight which gives their setting an eerie glow is no longer as threatening as it once was. They sleep together now. Dora and Lightening McQueen whispering platitudes in the pitch black of night, until their heavy eye lids close and daylight comes and once more their galaxies collide.