Back in the days when my children were small, an urgent voice would often wake me out of a dead sleep at night:
I’d jolt up, wondering what emergency brought my 5 year old daughter into the room to wake up her poor, exhausted mother. Was she sick? Was the house on fire?
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
I wanted so badly to say, “You woke me up for this?” Instead, I’d zip my lip, crowbar myself out of bed, and stagger down the hall to turn on the bathroom light. I knew Camilla wanted the security of my presence. She also wanted me to turn on that light because she was scared of the dark. Continue reading