I refuse to help her pack. But, I’m nearby…commenting, asking questions, offering advice. I want to sleep but the hours are few…and then she’s gone.
I need to write but the quiet won’t come until tomorrow.
“What do I need to pack?” she asks.
“Toothbrush, underwear, Kleenex, phone charger,” I reply.
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” I ask.
“Well, I should leave by noon but we all know that I won’t leave until 4,” she says with a giggle.
How could I possibly choose sleep over this honest conversation?