Goodnight...read the glowing sign above my bedroom door.

I shoveled myself further under the covers and sat with my flashlight, curled in my tiny igloo, my fortress of solitude, catching up on the secret stash of comics that I had hidden in the back of my closet.

I'd read sometimes until the flashlight flickered, in need of more juice from the cheap batteries I'd buy at the store with leftover lunch money. I'd fall asleep squinting my eyes so tight that I couldn't make out shapes on a page, and I'd wake up early to wash the sweaty inkstains from off my cheek.

But I'd wake up with a smile, and a spring in my step. My mother would always say, "My, what a chipper boy you are this morning", as she saw me leaving the bathroom with my hair matted down and combed like my favorite comic book gangsters.

I'd saunter back to my room, jumping up to give the sign above the doorway a high five.

Good Night, indeed.