Tears sting Tami's eyes as her three-year-old daughter squirms and shifts underneath her gentle touch. She can't bear to break that close contact, not now, even when Gracie rolls over, making it so Tami has to reach to keep her hand on the little girl. "Go sleep, Gracie Belle," she commands sternly – and uselessly. It's been years since her daughter was an easy sleeper. There is always something on the toddler's mind – some question or worry or demand. The girl's eyes are wide open and wide awake, and as soon as she's pulled far enough away that Tami is no longer able to continue rubbing her back in slow circles, the way she had been, she sits up, her mouth forming a perfectly round o. Her eyes narrow, reflecting her surprise and distress. Tami smiles in spite of herself, though her face is still damp. Little Gracie reaches up and swipes her open hand over her momma's cheek. "Why're you crying?" she demands.
Tami shakes her head, forcing herself to smile. "No reason," she tells the little girl. Gracie sticks her thumb into her mouth and glares at her from behind a halo of blonde hair, clearly not believing her mother's easy lie. Tami gathers the girl in her arms, feeling the heavy, warm weight of the child in her lap, promising herself – lying to herself – that this girl won't ever leave her. She rocks Gracie back and forth, holding her close and waiting for her daughter to be exhausted enough to allow her eyelids to droop and her breathing to slow. It doesn't seem like that'll be happening any time soon, though. Tami's been sitting in this darkened room for over an hour already, watching the sky outside shift from gray to blue to black, listening as the softly playing lullaby CD finished and started over again.
Gracie leans her head back and stared up at her mother, waiting for a story, waiting for the truth. "Well, I guess I'm just a little bit sad, that's all," Tami says. Somehow it feels good to pour out her feelings out loud. It loosens the knot in her stomach, although her throat still burns as she attempts to swallow her raw emotions: guilt, and worry, and pride... motherhood. How many fights and screaming matches had she had with Julie over the past couple of years? And all the while she never stopped seeing her first-born daughter as small, and fragile, and helpless. She looks at Julie and she sees her as she was when she was Gracie's age. And when she looks at Gracie, she sees Julie – a girl who will grow up and leave her. Not for years, fifteen years at least, but those years fly by. "I am going to miss your sister, Gracie Belle," Tami whispers. "You know," she cries, choking up again, still. "College is a long way away." A long way away, where she can't see, or reach, or soothe the hurt. She can feel the distance in every fiber of her being, and she clings closer to Gracie, just for now, just for tonight needing to fill the empty space. "Gracie," she whispers, but there is no response except for a soft inhale of breath. Tami smoothes the little girl's hair and looks down. Her daughter sleeps comfortably in her arms.