A girl like you could use a break

Friday, as the hurricane sweeps in over New York City, I'm in my bed worrying about mother. I never do so the feeling surprises me, but I know I recognize it from somewhere. Maybe it's the idea of not knowing what you have until you lose it, that for all the times I've fantasized about her being out of my life I wouldn't really want it to happen.

I'm watching CNN when I remember one of those fights we had, some stupid argument over nothing at all, and her leaving for New York in a cloud of rage. I remember imagining a plane crash and the reporters on TV telling the story about the ungrateful daughter who lost her mother and would never be able to forgive herself for her part in it. The daughter that had asked for it to happen and then couldn't handle the consequences when it did.

And then, the sound of keys in the lock and mother's voice piercing through the silence. "Sweetie, I'm home" she shouts from the hallway. I don't think I've ever hugged her so truthfully.