Harry can’t hear anything. He hasn’t heard anything since just before the impact. He feels spacey.
There is so much light it reminds Harry of looking through a kaleidoscope and at the end of the brightly lit tunnel Harry can just make out his little denim clad bear. His bear.
The light is so warm on his face, Harry starts to wonder where this light filled place is, where his mum and his dad are
“This is the song that never ends; yes it goes on and on my friends…. not knowing what it is,” trills through Harry’s head in a sing-song voice. His favourite song. He was singing it to bear just before that loud noise.
What was that noise? It had sounded like a tyrannosaurus rex running through the jungle. It had scared him.
Harry is scared; bear seems to be so far away. Harry wants his mum and dad. The light is starting to feel less bright and warm and beautiful. It’s not right.
Harry tries to move. It feels like he is wrapped tightly like that caterpillar he saw last summer in its chrysalis.
Harry doesn’t like bugs, or even insects. Yes, this warm place is definitely not safe and not fun. Where is mum and dad? What is that horrible noise?
Tears slide down Harry’s face. He doesn’t want to be in this tunnel anymore. “NO, I don’t like it…. let me out, please let me out.” Heaving sobs make little Harry’s body tremble and he notices some pain. “Let me out! I want my mum and dad….. I want bear!”
Harry’s little legs start to move, he smiles, he picks up speed, and he heads off towards bear.
The light gets brighter and feels warm again on his face and he reaches his hand to bear. The blue denim caresses his fingers as he touches him. His face relaxes and he sighs.
‘Sigh’ followed by the slightest movement. Phil doesn’t notice it, he is tired and brittle and over occupied with the problems of his marriage.
***
What has his wife done? How could she need forgiveness and why now, when so much is going on with Harry.
Phil sinks into the chair, defeated and broken and feeling terribly alone, his head falls onto Harry’s chest and his shoulders start to wrack with blood curdling sobs. He sounds like a wild beast. Once the dam is opened, Phil struggles to close the floodgate. He swipes his hand across his face, swiping snot and tears over the wrist of his shirt.
He takes Harry’s hand. It’s warm and clammy, “Harry, Harry! I love you. I love you so much - come back to me and Bear, come back to Mum.”
A pinch, not even a pinch, a change in pressure around his palm. Pressure from Harry? His son lying there so still. Did he squeeze me?
“Harry! Harry! I am here, wake up Harry – we are here, we love you! We love you.”
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