Night Shift

When I was living with my parents, my mother would always stay up when I went out at night, not going to bed until I got back home.

Sitting at the kitchen table, smoking, and waiting.

Particularly important during high school. Always knew she would be up, waiting.

She never went to bed immediately upon my return. Asking how the evening went, what I had been doing.

Often turning into larger conversations.

Thinking back, probably the most significant conversations. The time available at 2 a.m., 3 a.m. Longer conversations generally not possible during the day.

The revelations. Said one night he loves you, but you don’t love him. You respect him, but you don’t love him.

Maybe 16 years old. Referring to my father.

She responded with silence, and a smile.

Admiration in perception.



About brucelarochelle
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One Response to Night Shift

  1. Would that my mother had lived! There was so much I wanted to ask, that I only thought about in the decades following. It’s hard to be on the leading edge. The older ones are supposed to know.

    I wish I could still ask the ones I used to believe knew.

    My mother would be 100 this year.

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