Sleepy Head
 By Linda Schwartz

The first rays of light beat on the temple. Shining through every window and every crevice of the stone building. The monks had been awake before the sun rose; having certain ceremonies, meditations and various other activities to perform. Preparing the morning meal was one of them.

Kwai Chang Caine watched as some of the children slowly began to take their places at the dining table. One child, in particular, was noticeably absent. Silently, the priest went to retrieve him.

*Yawn, * Peter rolled over in his bed, trying to escape the light, which was quickly brightening the room. He was so comfortable and warm; he didn't want to leave the bed. He was beginning to dose off when a voice penetrated the silence.

"Peter?" Kwai Chang stared at his son's back. "Come, my son, it is time to wake up." He had come to realize that Peter did not like to awaken early in the morning. Ever since his mother's death, four years ago, Peter had become withdrawn.

"Don't want to," Peter answered in a groggy voice, and pulled the pillow over his head.

Caine sat on the bed, trying to pull the pillow off his son's head without success. He knew he'd have to try something drastic. He resorted to an age-old trick that his own father would use on him when he, too, did not want to leave the safety of his own warm bed. That trick was tickling! With barely a touch his fingers ran up and down his son's back and moved to his stomach.

*Giggle, * Peter squealed loudly, the pillow fell to the floor. " Father, stop, STOP."

"Are you ready to get dressed and join the others for breakfast?" Kwai Chang asked Peter, a hint of a smile appearing on the priest's face.

"Okay, father," he said with his head bowed. Peter's expression had changed again, this time becoming more solemn. A tear slipped from water-filled eyes. He quickly changed and sat on the bed, fiddling with the ties on his shoes to hide his emotions but he was unsuccessful and became ever more frustrated as the laces refused to obey his uncoordinated fingers. Silently his father bent down and tied them for him. He looked up at his son and caressed his cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

Peter threw his arms around his father. "Father, why did mother have to die?" More tears ran down his cheeks. He had a dream about her just before he woke up.

"I do not know, my son." Kwai Chang said as he tightened his arms about his son's small body, his hands rubbed Peter's back. He could feel his body becoming calmer and he stood back, drying the tears from Peter's face.

He squatted down with his back to his son. Peter smiled as he recognized the invitation and jumped on his father's back for a piggyback ride.

Kwai Chang smiled as he gripped Peter's feet and strolled down the empty temple corridors. Finally stopping a few feet before the entrance to the dining hall, he knelt down long enough for Peter to climb off his father's back and together they walked into the room.

Peter sat down with the other boys as Kwai Chang sat with the other monks.

As they ate, father and son made eye contact.

Peter smiled as he felt a familiar warmth pass through his little body. It was his father's way of sending his love to him. He wondered what lessons his father would show him today. That would have to wait until after school.

Whatever they were, all that mattered to him was how lucky he was to still have his father in his life. A father as loving and caring as Kwai Chang Caine.

End