A Conversation With Mom

Every night I get a bit restless and I dream of something wild.

Like setting a zoo animal free, I released that old song into the foreign air.

“Those cartoons again?" She continued to scrub that night's dinner off the plates. "Or maybe the cold's keeping you awake?”

“No, I’m just." A pause. "Worried, I think."

She continued scrubbing.

"It’s hard to stay cool or warm. Always too many blankets or too few.”

“That’s weird, the temperature should be fixed by thermostat.”

More scrubbing.

“What are you worried about?”

I opened my mouth, just the slightest, to speak.

“Nothing. Anxiety.”

She continued scrubbing.

The dishes don't clean themselves, after all.

“Alright. If you're still having trouble sleeping at night, let me know.”