“How was school today?”
My daughter giggles through the breezeway.
Secrets, hopes, and guess-who-likes-yous swirl around her.
But I am not admitted into the inner sanctum.
The VIP lounge of her room
Is reserved for soulmates and confessors
With cell phones attached to their ears
And all the sagacity and wisdom
Gained from living
A decade and a half.
Two slim arms wrap around my shoulders
Unexpected as a new driver slamming on the brakes.
A cheek, impossibly smooth,
Nestles against my neck
For half a heartbeat.
“It was good.”
I am thrown a bone: three extra words.
And she is gone.
Her excitement remains in the room awhile,
Eddying in giddy currents
Searching for its source
One bright atom
At a time.
AMI HENDRICKSON writes books, screenplays, and endless to-do lists. She also writes for famous horse trainers. Some of her favorite pastimes involve horseback riding, playing with her dogs, teaching writers workshops, and pining for a working holodeck. Ami lives in Southwest Michigan. She is represented by Lane Heymont. @MuseInks http://www.AmiHendrickson.com
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