I never realized how much effort it would be to remove makeup. It's very intricate to make sure it is all off so that my pillows will not be stained. I follow the same rituals in which I was taught at a young age, though more have been added since I'm older.
Finally,
I'm in my favorite place, beneath my blankets and lying on my pillows which feel like clouds, staring face to face with numerous teddy bears which share my bed.
I close my eyes, knowing daddy will be along soon to turn off my light and tuck me in. I am much too old for bedtime stories but this is the only way I could ease the transition.
I know that he misses sitting at my bedside with a book in hand as I eagerly await the fairytale.
My favorite tale was "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter". I cannot remember why I favored it. Maybe it was because of the tale of the princess.
Or maybe it was how my father read it to me.
Either way, the story sits by my bedside as if anticipated to be read on a nightly basis.