My daughter Niki snuggled down under the covers in her bed. Her younger sister, Tammie, reluctantly crawled into her bed. I turned on a small nightlight on the dresser, then leaned over to pick up clothing from the floor that had been cast off in favor of night clothes. Tammie sat upright to point out, “You forgot to shut the closet door.”

I thought, “That’s nice. Tammie likes having the room look neat at bedtime.”

Niki dismissed that idea when she sleepily commented, “Tammie wants the frog monster to stay in the closet.”

This was the first I’d heard about a frog monster! I looked closely at my youngest daughter. She didn’t look too worried. I asked, “Where did the monster come from? Tell me about it.”

Tammie shrugged as she outlined what she knew about the frog. “I don’t know where the frog came from. He wears a crown and is six feet tall.”

Sleepiness gone, Niki rolled on her side and added with a giggle, “It carries a large trident like Neptune.”

I was impressed. How many children have closet monsters that are six-feet-tall and carry the three-pronged weapon of a Roman sea god? I inquired, “Are you afraid of this giant frog monster?”

Both of my daughters denied being afraid. Tammie informed me, “The frog doesn’t bother us if the closet door is closed.”

 Kissing both girls good night, I turned off the overhead light and left the room. The nightlight on their dresser wasn’t for them. It was for me for whenever I felt the need to check on them.

Closets didn’t contain monsters when I was a child. For me, the small storage spaces were where treasures were kept. The closet in Mom and Daddy’s bedroom hid Christmas and birthday gifts. My brothers had bedroom closets where Christmas candy could be found and special toys that were brought out only on special occasions. In my sister’s closets, I knew there would be a treasury of art projects and other pretty things I liked to look at. One set of closets in our farmhouse was like a secret passageway in a castle as they connected two bedrooms.

The monsters I was afraid of as a child were anonymous blobs of destruction. Although they were faceless and formless, and I had no idea what they would do to me if they ever caught me, I feared them with every fiber of my being. They lived in dark and lonely places and were sure to snatch me away from the land of the living if I were to venture into their territory without an escort to protect me.

The only light in our farmyard on cold winter nights was a single dim light bulb on a pole between the barn and house. I loved playing in the barn while the cows were milked, but never wanted to stay until all the chores were done. Crossing the dark, shadowed yard by myself was out of the question! As the wind blew, the naked tree branches swayed, making shadows move. What danger lurked behind the shadowy shed? Even the ruts in the driveway made shadows that looked dangerous.

I also feared real things like strange dogs and wild animals. Riding a bike past other farmyards invited dogs out onto the road. They could make me fall off the bike and bite. A bear or wolf might kill me if I were to venture alone to the woodlot on our back forty. Never mind that no one in our area had seen a bear or wolf for at least thirty years.

I recently asked Tammie, “Do you remember the giant frog with a trident that you and Niki said lived in your bedroom closet?”

My daughter grinned acknowledgment. She said, “That was my monster, not Niki’s”