You leapt and let out a small yelp as another round of thunder began. Your mother, Belarus, sat on the edge of your bed, whispering that it was only a storm, that there was nothing to be afraid of. But you couldn't help to be terrified of the howling wind, rolling thunder, and the occasional bolt of lightning that lit up the dark room.


"Mama…" you sobbed.


"Shhhh… дзіця¹, it's only a storm… everything will be fi-"


Belarus was cut off by a loud roar of thunder. The wind blew harder, and something smacked against the window, causing you both to jump. You let out a strangled sob of terror and clutched tightly to the navy blue dress that she wore. She sighed and picked you up.


"Come on, ўмілаваная², we'll go to my room for the night."


You nodded and sniffled. "O-Okay, Mama…"


Belarus stood up with you on her hip, your head resting on her shoulder. She silently walked to the door, opening it quietly and stepping out of the room. Your mother hastily made her way to the room at the end of the hall.

Once she opened the door, Belarus walked in and set you on her large, plush bed. You crawled over to her bedside table on your knees and grabbed a tissue, noisily blowing your nose and wiping your eyes with the back of your arm. You turned back to your mother, who was now sitting on the far side of the bed.


"Mama…?"


"It's okay. We can't hear the storm as much now."


It was true. The sound of the storm was barely audible from in her room. The only thing you could hear was the muffled sound of the thunder, and only if you listened hard. You grinned, causing the constant glare on her face to soften into a slight smile.


"Mama?"


"Yes, малютка³?"


"… Do you remember when you used to sing me lullabies before I went to sleep?"


"…Yes."


"Well do you think… that maybe… you could do that now?"


This was going to be difficult to do. Belarus had not sung for years, not since you were only a baby. You didn't remember this, of course, but heard stories from your Uncle Ivan and Aunt Yekaterina about the times they heard your mother's voice from outside your room. They said that her voice was different from when she usually talked. She sang softly and sweetly, and you would fall asleep quickly.

You tried your best to look as innocent and pleading as possible. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity to you, she sighed and nodded slightly. "Come here."


You gleefully crawled over to Belarus, your eyes shining with excitement. Does she really want me to sing so badly?, Belarus thought.


She laid down and let you curl up to her side. You smiled, it far from often when your mother would let you stay in her room and stay in there at the same time. If, for some reason, you ended up sleeping in her room, your mother would either sleep on the couch in the living room or in your tiny bed in your room.


Belarus closed her eyes and began singing softly.


"Залаты сон цалаваць твае вочы,
Усмешкі чакаюць вас, калі вы паднімаецеся.
сон,
прыгожы дзіця,
Не плач,
І я буду спяваць калыханку.


Клопаты вы не ведаеце,
Таму спаць,
У той час як над вамі гадзіны, я буду трымаць.
сон,
даволі дарагая,
Не плач,
І я буду спяваць калыханку." ⁴


You lay there, a small smile on your lips, as she sang the last line of the song. Her voice is even prettier than I thought it would be. Your mother leaned over and kissed your forehead.


"спакойнай ночы, маляня.⁵"


"спакойнай ночы, мама.⁶"