Half Past Two (bp coyle)

I check the clock again. Almost half past two in the morning. I put my book on the bedside dresser and take off my reading glasses, rub my eyes. I’m too tired to focus. My wife is snoring gently on her side. She never has problems dropping off. Nothing stops her from getting a good night’s sleep.

I can’t relax until everyone is home.

I check the clock again to see that two minutes have passed. The boys came back over an hour ago. No sign of Jenny yet.

Oh life was so much simpler when they were all small. I always knew exactly where they were. I thought things would be easier when they were grown. I was wrong.

We’ve have been lucky, I know. They’ve all turned into nice people.

Yet I miss the children that they were.

A car pulls up outside. When the front doors opens shortly after I breath a sigh of relief.

‘Jenny,’ I call when I hear her try to tiptoe pass my room. ‘Jenny. Is that you?’

‘Yes Dad. Go to sleep.’ Her voice is slightly slurred.

I turn out the light and lie here feeling releaved yet sad.