The alarm clock in my stomach sends lightning bolts of electricity to wake me from my sleep. 1:32am, the terror of the fear of death again. I get up. I survey the family. They look to be in a deep, peaceful sleep. Hanna’s eyes are moving, REM. Her lips smile: it must be a good dream. Kristie and Julia breathe softly. I need to remember this moment, for this too shall pass. A photograph will not do. I need the memory embedded by drawing lines on a page while observing. I leave the lights off. A few lines in the dark: That’s enough: the terror fades and I can slip back into bed into my own dreams.