Читать книгу Where Dreams Blossom: The Wind of Past Times - - Страница 8

A jolt of warmth flooded through Ethan’s body, pulling him from the depths of his exhausted sleep. He blinked his eyes open, disoriented, and stared up at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom. The sunlight streamed through the window, painting stripes across the walls. He was in his own bed, surrounded by his stuffed animals, safe and sound.

He sat up, his heart pounding, his mind racing. Had it all been a dream? The dog body, the freedom, the cold night in the cardboard box… was it just a figment of his imagination?

He looked down at his hands. They were small and pink, with neatly trimmed fingernails. Not furry paws with calloused pads. He wiggled his toes. They were warm and snug in his favorite pair of blue socks. Not bare and exposed to the cold concrete.

A wave of relief washed over him, so powerful it almost knocked him off the bed. He was back! He was Ethan again! The nightmare was over!

With a whoop of joy, he leaped out of bed and raced down the stairs, his bare feet slapping against the wooden steps. He burst into the kitchen, his heart overflowing with happiness.

There she was! Mom, standing at the stove, humming a cheerful tune as she stirred a pot of… oatmeal? He didn’t care! It could have been mud, for all he cared, as long as it was Mom who made it.

He ran to her and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her soft hair. «Mom! Mom! I love you!» he exclaimed, squeezing her tight.

Mom chuckled, surprised by his sudden outburst of affection. «What’s gotten into you, sweetie?» she asked, patting his back. «Did you have a bad dream?»

«The worst!» Ethan replied, his voice muffled by her hair. «But it’s over now! I’m home! I’m back!»

He pulled away and looked at her, his eyes shining with gratitude. «Thank you, Mom,» he said, his voice sincere. «Thank you for everything.»

Mom smiled, her heart overflowing with love for her son. «You’re welcome, sweetie,» she said, wiping a stray tear from her eye. «Now, come and eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.»

Ethan sat down at the table, his eyes fixed on the bowl of oatmeal. He had never appreciated it before, but now, after spending a night in a cardboard box, it looked like the most delicious thing he had ever seen.

He grabbed a spoon and shoveled a mouthful into his mouth. It was warm, sweet, and comforting. «This is the best oatmeal I’ve ever tasted in my life!» he declared, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

Mom laughed. «Well, I’m glad you like it,» she said. «Maybe you’ll eat it without complaining from now on.»