Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Goodnight, Smokey

It's 3:21 am. I got off the phone with my daughter half an hour ago. She's miserable where she is. She went to help her family during a tough time. And that's what she got for it - a tough time. My daughter has often awakened me in the middle of the night. Sore throats, throwing up, bad dreams, hungry, has to pee. It's been a while since these occurances; she's 20 now. But I was always there to help. This time she's in San Francisco and I'm not there to stroke her hair and cradle her until she falls asleep. O.K. she's 20 and I would still do those things if they made her feel better. She's not a helpless kid; if anything, I'm a helpless mom. I have leaned on her so much. She has set me back on track, encouraged me to take chances, and has even soothed me to sleep. When her father left, she was 2. We had just moved back in with my mom and dad. It was late and a long day of packing and moving and saying goodbye and fighting and finally...we were in bed. But all I could do was cry a shaking, heartbroken, ugly cry. She sat up in bed and put her arm around me and looked right at me and sad," Don't cry, Mommy. Happy!" I looked at her sleepy, smiling face. What could I do but thank God and smile back? I remember falling peacefully asleep after that.

I miss you, Smokey. I'm sorry you're sad. You went there to do something out of love, and I'm so proud of you for that. Everything's going to be o.k. Everybody loves you there. Don't cry. Happy.