“Hey, Mom?”
“Yes?”
She hesitated.
“I know I shouldn’t have lied about school.”
I waited.
“But I was really scared.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want to do that again.”
I stood up and walked over to her.
“Then next time you’re scared, tell me. Even if you’re afraid I’ll be angry. Even if you think I won’t understand. Even if you don’t know how to explain what’s wrong.”
She nodded.
“And I’ll try to listen before I start telling you what to do,” I added.
She smiled.
“That would be nice.”
I pulled her into a hug.
She was getting taller. Soon, she would be looking down at me instead of resting her head against my shoulder.
There would be more difficult years ahead. More disagreements, more slammed doors, more moments when she would insist that I understood nothing about her life.
