Best Friend

I’m your best friend. You don’t call me that, but that’s okay. You know me better as “monster under your bed.” Which is a bit of a mouthful if you ask me. You never shorten it to just “monster,” and if you ever asked, I would have told you that my name is Pam. 

I’ve been assigned to your family forever, but you’re my favorite out of all the generations. You make fun, arbitrary rules. Keeps it interesting, you know? You can’t be touched if you’re in the light, or if another person is in the room with you. You’re always a step ahead of me, and I don’t mind that one bit. 

The magic your imagination creates sustains me. When you wish on the dandelion, a fallen eyelash, a shooting star, I watch. The floor under your bed offers a decent view. Oh, how I wish to play with you. Your magical land of make believe. Making spells from cool rocks and flowers, rhyming your words to give them power. When you can’t think of the rhyme you need, I whisper one for you from under the bed. 

This is my favorite part of childhood, because it’s when I’m most alive. Even if you can only know me as your villain, I’ll be here for you. I’ll be quiet. I’ll stay where you can’t see me because it makes you feel better. I’ll live in the darkness so that you may thrive in the light.