Mary woke up to a scream. She quickly got up to her feet and ran out of her bedroom, barely noticing the storm outside. She reached the door at the end of the hallway and pushed it open to see her son sitting up, struggling to get free from his blanket that was wrapping his feet. The boy was scared, how could I forget, Mary thought. She took a few deep breaths and walked to the boy, who had was now crying.
"Shh.. It's alright, Dean, everything is alright" she tried to comfort him.
"Mom, I am scared"
"I know" She wiped off the tears from his face.
"The storm is scary"
"There's nothing to be afraid of"
"But it is so loud"
"I know it is"
"Why is it so loud?"
"Haven't I explained it to you before?"
"But I want you to do it again"
Mary smiled. There was a tiny spark in the three-years-old's eyes, a sign of him starting to calm down. "Well, the wind is blowing hard, so it makes a noise when it hits something"
"Why is the wind so hard, then?"
"It's in a hurry"
"Why?"
"There's a place with less air somewhere, so the wind has to take more to there"
"How can there be less air somewhere than here?" The little boy's eyes were round from wonder. Mary had told him the story many times, yet it always seemed to amaze him.
"Because it's warmer there. Warm air goes up, so there's not as much air lower"
"So the wind wants to fill the hole"
"Yes"
"Okay" Dean still looked a bit unsure. He jumped as the thunder rumbled. "What was that noise?"
"Thunder"
"What is that?"
"It's the warm air hitting the cooler air up there" She knew Dean wouldn't buy the things other parents told their children, like that Thunder was angels bowling.
"Like this?" Dean asked and slammed his tiny palms together, causing a small clap.
"Like that"
"Okay". Dean thought for a moment and smiled. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"
"Of course you can" Mary answered with a smile. She picked up her son and together they went to her bedroom.
"Dad is not here"
"No, he's sleeping on the couch"
"Why? Are you still mad to him?"
"At him, Dean" she corrected. "A bit"
"Okay"
Mary laid Dean on John's side of the bed and got down herself. Dean curled next to her, digging himself under the blanket. "Can you sing for me?" he asked.
"Of course I can. What would you like to hear? Hey Jude?"
"No, the other one"
Mary smiled. She had to think for a minute, usually Dean wanted to hear the song she usually sang for him. Her quiet voice filled the stormy night.
"Carry on my wayward son…"