A Pounding

I hear a loud pounding. It's strong and it's steady as it creeps closer and closer to my door. I try to escape the solid rapping, unaware of who could be calling on me this late at night. I turn down the hall, prepared to act as if no one is home, when I realize that the pounding is following me. Into my bedroom I quickly go, seeking comfort under the thick layer of warm blankets that keep me wrapped so closely to the man I promised to love my entire life. The bed is so empty without him there and I find no relief without the heat from his strong arms around me.
The pounding continues to get stronger...louder...stronger...louder. It has attached itself to me life a late afternoon shadow, that I can't seem to lose until I make my way under a strong shady tree, breaking me from the fire of the sun, and relieving me of the burden of the dark stranger who had clung to the souls of my feet.
I know that I can not escape the powerful grip the pounding has on my body and i decide to face the unknown. Could it be that this pounding is inside of me? Could it be the sweet yet small sound of my unborn child, awakening my soul to the beauty of a family? Is it a pounding in my head from the tasks of the day and the need for rest in the night. Why does my heart feel as though it has been torn from my body only to fight for its return to the safety of my chest? This is the pounding...this is the noise that alarms me so often when I am left alone. The pounding that begins so soft and low until the anxiety builds and the worry escalates until I finally cry myself to sleep praying that he will again return to our bed, return to the mound of covers that await his sweet smell, return to the woman who lives her life to love him.
There is a noise outside, a pounding you might say. The panic races through my blood until I can no longer avoid the question that has plaqued my thoughts so many nights before. The twist of two metals as they clasp tight to one another, can seem so innocent, can seem so beautiful, when you wait for a loved one to arrive...or they can tear down your walls and in an instant tear apart the haven that you have worked so hard to build. I rush to the window praying that it's not me they have come for, praying that they will not begin to pound on my door, praying that tonight will not be my night, my night to be the most feared woman in the world, my night to have my heart shattered.
The car door closes tightly across the street. I watch from the window as a picture-perfect family pounds on the neighbor's door and as the most radiant smile beams from behind the crack left when the home's entrance is exposed. Open, the door swings in anticipation of its guests, and once again, my prayers have been answered, this was not my night.
Hours later, wrapped in the layers of cloth that adorn my bead, the pounding begins once again. Quickly, my heart begins to race as I begin to sit up. The only light is from a street lamp outside and the mounds of blankets begin to detect their comforting heat. The pounding is soft and soothing. My heart fills with joy and my eyes with tears. His warm, strong arms wrap around me and the beat of his heart is pounding against my back. Again he has made it home to me, and our souls begin to pound...in sync with one another, as if our hearts beat as one.