Do we ever stop being parents?
It’s 3:00AM and I was drifting in that space between dream and awake.
I was woken out of that dream by my daughter screaming. In the dream I looked back in terror and she was terribly hurt.
I haven’t had these dreams since my babies were small and now I have to endure the rest of the night in this residual terror and nausea that is left in the wake of spent adrenaline.
No, I can’t text. It’s three in the morning and she’ll laugh at my fey notions or be mad.
I miss the years when I could fall asleep and stay there.