past curfew

My senior year, on nights past curfew, i'd tip toe through the dark house, holding my breath all the way, moving like a criminal over moaning floor boards and squeaky steps, all this to find that my mama had been nesting in my bed all the while curled up tight.

"Hola chiquita" she'd say in a sleepy stupor pulling me into her arms, rocking me like a slow dance in the moonlight.

"Como te fue?" she'd ask in a yawn, half listening.

"Good. I''m glad you had fun mi'ja."

Then she'd breath me in one last time, say her goodnights and stumble back down the hall to her own bed.

She never interrogated me at this hour, never made me walk the line.

She just needed to know that i had returned home safe once again so she could go back to dreaming so she could go back to the peace of deep sleep when you know all of your children are present and accounted for, wrapped tight inside the wombs of their beds.

I am my mother now in these moments waiting for Facil to return, the tossing and turning, the clock watching. The anticipation that he will walk back through that door at any moment and restore balance once again....that we will all turn over in our sheets and sleep the heavy sleep.

Thank you for your thoughts, I will let you know when I hear from him.