While My Daughter Snoozes

home insemination Kit

It’s 6 a.m. and I’m dragging myself out of bed after a restless night, ready to wake my daughter for school. It’s a routine I’ve followed since her kindergarten days. A bright light spills out from under her door, a clear indication she’s pulled an all-nighter, probably slaving over a French paper she should’ve started days ago. She’s still in high school, and I can’t help but wonder how she’ll handle college. I managed, so surely she will too.

I creak the door open, and the light floods her room. I call out her name, hesitating as I head for the stairs. Maybe she’s in the shower? I scan the house, heart racing. What if she’s lost it and decided to run through the frozen cornfield? My mind races; it’s been a tough year for both of us.

Holding my breath, I return to her room. A blanket from her younger years is tossed across the bed. I inch closer, my heart pounding. I can already picture the headlines: “Local Teenager Dies Writing French Paper.” I’ve been a single mom for too long, and menopause isn’t helping. Seriously, maybe it’s me who needs that run through the cornfield. The thought makes me chuckle, but I’m pretty sure the neighbors would freak out.

I lift the blanket and spot her curled up in yesterday’s clothes, lying sideways. I touch her head, and that headline flashes again in my mind. Standing there, I feel a mix of embarrassment over my thoughts and gratitude that she’s blissfully unaware of them.

I focus on her breathing, watching her shoulder rise and fall like waves rolling in. It feels familiar, reminiscent of those nights by her crib, ensuring she was still alive. That old yearning grips me again; I wish I could freeze this moment and hold onto it forever.

I glance at the clock and know it’s time to wake her. I hesitate, fully aware of what’s about to happen. There’ll be whining and eye-rolling, a full-blown teenage tantrum about wanting to stay home. She knows my weak spots. She’s my only child, and with college on the horizon, she might just decide to skip school today. She could sleep late into the afternoon, while I sneak glances into her room, soaking it all in.

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In summary, this morning ritual captures the bittersweet moments of a single mom’s life with her teenage daughter, filled with love, worry, and the inevitability of change.