When she turned to leave the room, she would sometimes have a slight smirk on her face.
|Something like this.|
I knew she remembered how it felt to be a teenager. I sometimes thought she got a bit of pleasure from it although she would deny it with a smirk. I can't begrudge her that smirk. After all, I've done some smirking in my time.
|...and something like this.|
Over the last few years, I've discovered that not everyone has had a solid relationship with their Mom. There are several people in my social circle that do not or have never gotten along with their Mom. Some simply never had a relationship at all. Some have had outright estrangement.
What I'm trying and failing to say is that I feel lucky to have had a Mom who would give me five more minutes at least three times every morning before school. Not everybody got that. I did. I was fortunate.
Today marks the second anniversary of Mom's death. Ironically, I have found myself completely unable to sleep another five seconds much less five minutes this morning. But, as I laid there awake with my eyes squished tightly shut, I kept on thinking (maybe wishing a little), "Just five more minutes."
What I wouldn't give for five more minutes.