To follow in her footsteps

The mix matched worn out slippers.
I could hear them shuffling up the stairs.
The thin plastic grips on the bottom
rubbing the carpet as she pulls herself up to my room.

I hear her start down the hallways.
I know what comes next,
the lightbulb from the hall flips off of course,
can't be wasting electricity.
I the distance I hear the sound of toys and boxes
being clumsily pushed aside by her feet in the dark.
I know where she is at,
she's at my brothers room shoveling a pathway through the door.
It becomes quiet.
I hear the distant, muffled voices.
I know she is there, kneeling by the bed, praying.
She'll be in my room soon.

There it is again,
the sound of the padded feet
searching for the right pathway out through the dark.
Closer they come, slish, slash, down the hallway.
The door starts creaking.
I know it's my door, it is slowly opening.
I see her silhouette in the darkness.
A soft whisper calls out, I answer.
The shuffling moves closer, I feel her next to me.
She places one hand on my back and the other in my hand.
She begins praying.