Nobody Knows What Comes Next

I almost missed it but I didn’t miss it.

See. Trying to get my kid to bed, I’d said already four times brush your teeth and finally, there at the bathroom sink, both of us brushing. Finally. I am efficient and fierce. I am the grown-up, and it is eight thirty seven pee em already goddammit. So. I look up then at the mirror and there is the child I adore with my very bones: she is brushing madly, she is frothing. For real, toothpaste everywhere. She locks me in her laughing gaze, issues this dangerous invitation. (Slow motion interior hesitation: one of thirty thousand daily decisions. It’s eight thirty eight on a school night. This could go either way.) Then like two dogs who, without a word, tear off toward the same geese, this golden daughter and I are both brushing like wild people, froth dripping down our chins, grinning at each other in the mirror. 

This entry was posted in Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Nobody Knows What Comes Next

  1. omg. Beloved. How I love you frothing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s