Fly Baby Chick, Fly

"There's a hole in my heart with your name on it."

I believe I will foray into the field of country and western music. This will be my first big hit.

It will be about a mom who sends her daughter off on the next big adventure, only to realize the million and one different times during the day that she would listen to her daughter make some funny comment, give her daughter that quick kiss on top of the head that is the only allowable form of affection a teenager will put up with, or just be present for the tornado of energy that is life inside the skin of a teenager.

And then the mom realizes she could call her and wish her good-night or ask about her day at work or make sure that she DOESN'T DO ANYTHING STUPID BECAUSE OH MY GOD WE DON'T HAVE HEALTH INSURANCE AND A BROKEN LEG WOULD FORCE ME TO BECOME A PROSTITUTE TO PAY OFF THE BILLS AND FRANKLY I WOULD BE A REALLY ROTTEN PROSTITUTE BECAUSE I WOULD KEEP ASKING QUESTIONS LIKE "SO, YOUR WIFE THINKS YOU'RE JUST OFF GETTING A BEER WITH THE BOYS. HOW DO YOU THINK SHE'S GOING TO FEEL IF SHE EVER FINDS OUT?"

But no. The mom doesn't do that. The mom will wait for the next time the daughter comes home and then sit back, keep her mouth shut, and just listen to her daughter's stories.

In the mean time, it helps to think about all the times that the daughter would do the dishes and when the mom would pull them out of the dishwasher, they would still be caked in goo because there is something this younger generation doesn't do. THEY NEVER PRE-WASH.

This always ticks the mother off.

And it helps to take away the loneliness. And the sadness. For about three seconds.