scenes from my life: vol 1

My eyes shoot open as if I’ve woken from a nightmare. In actuality, it was a fairly boring (realistic) dream about playing Halo with my Xbox Live friends. Maaaybe there was a section of the map that opened up to reveal my childhood bedroom, but it’s mostly fuzzy now.

In my peripheral vision I note that there is not even a hint of early sunlight in the cracks between my thick bedroom curtains. I groan inwardly so as not to risk waking my husband, as I assume that it is likely the middle of the night. A quick glance at my phone confirms that it is 3:16am; whyyyyyyyy, I wish to groan aloud.

I spend a few moments considering 1. Going down to my office to read 2. Using my battery-operated Costco “candle” to read in bed 3. Getting up to pee. Number 3 wins out, and I tiptoe to the en suite to handle what should have been labeled “number 1” (hehe) (sorry).

Once back in bed, I pick up my phone to begin mindlessly clicking around, reading messages I will later forget that I received because now they’re marked as read, when I hear my bedroom door crack open. The corners of my lips turn up automatically into a smile even before I see the silhouette of my daughter peeking her head in, backlit by the hallway nightlight we plugged in for just this occasion.

She hesitates in the doorway, so I move my phone to where it casts light on my hand and wave to her. Her shoulders sag with relief and she waves back, then turns to shut the door behind her before scuttling over to climb into bed with me. “Mommy, I can’t sleep.” “It’s okay, me neither,” I say, wrapping both arms around her, rubbing her back and stroking her hair simultaneously.

I expect her to pull away after a minute or so and ask if we can go down to my office to “hang out,” an idea that I am uncharacteristically enthusiastic about for 3am. Instead, she doesn’t move, and I close my eyes, hugging her tighter and thinking about all the times when my mom comforted me in this way. About how wonderful it felt to be enveloped in an embrace that somehow made everything okay. About feeling so safe I could just pass out anywhere. About how I don’t have a mom to hug me like this anymore.

It’s a dull ache, the pain. As I realize she’s fallen back asleep, I gently refocus my attention on where I am and what I get to do. I get to be that person for her. I get to provide a hug that alleviates discomfort and fear. I get to be immeasurably valuable simply by existing. It doesn’t vanish the ache, but it adds a balm. What a joy. What a wonder. What an honor.

I make a mental note that this isn't the first time I have woken up in the middle of the night, only to then receive a nighttime visitor. I smile, feeling beyond grateful that me and this tiny little being seem to have a telepathic link that I just keep collecting more evidence for. Life is cool.