The rain has stopped and the crickets are singing. A crescent moon winks between the trees. I’ve just lured Copper up from the basement, his sometime home this rainy summer. He spent the night in a thunder shirt, which keeps his trembling at bay.

Watching his fear of rain and storms intensify with age has taught me a thing or two about fear, about the way it takes a body over and will not let it go.

Easy enough to say, “Don’t worry, little guy. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” But harder to prove, and he knows it.

I keep all this in mind for my middle-of-the-night wakings, tell myself what I tell him. I don’t believe it, either.