Standby

 The mornings when we wake up. She's there. Waiting. Getting ready to get you ready. To send you out into the world.

The afternoons when we wander back home. She's there. Waiting. Anxious to hear all about the adventures we've had.

The nights when we couldn't sleep.

The days that didn't turn out like we'd planned.

She's there. Waiting. 

And somewhere in there, it started to make you anxious. Maybe because you worried that she would always be there. Or because you thought she might not.

She's still there. 

Telling stories. Listening to yours. Because she cares.

She cares about you. She cares for you. She cares.

While you go out and live your life, she continues to wait. Just in case. 

You might need a band-aid or a kiss on the forehead. Or a smile. 

She taught you things you only remember as part of your regularly scheduled life. 

She wrote you notes to take to your teacher. She stood in line with you.

And waited.

Because she wanted to.

And you wanted her to be there with you.

Waiting. 

She's there now.