Updated: Jan 10, 2022
I have a ritual. Every morning, I walk into my kitchen, tell Alexa to play ***** on Sirius Satellite, and get to work on making some coffee. I usually toss my iPhone on the charger that is supposed to sit right next to my Alexa and head out to make my beloved pot of coffee. I am a creature of habit, of ritual.
This morning, when I made the step to plug in my phone, I noticed my charger was...
G O N E. Like poof. Not. There.
And that, right there, is the only reason I know that my daughter is actually somewhere in this house.
You see, a week ago my oldest daughter tested positive for COVID. Upon review of that rapid at home test (which I conducted while wearing a mask, gloves, and a garbage bag over the top half of my body), she was promptly locked into her bedroom, and hasn't been seen since.
I spent last night thinking about how much I missed her. How it was weird not to see her at the dinner table, or rather, stalking my freshly made pot of coffee. I realized it had been a WEEK since I had SEEN her or hugged her. And I missed her. "Is she even here, still?" I sarcastically wondered. "It's so quiet with out her around. Things are actually where they belong, it's weird." I mean, the food I leave on the stairs was disappearing. And I was getting regular texts from her. But everything else in the house was actually being left as I had left it, you know, like the remote was where I put it, and the water jug wasn't being put back in the fridge empty.
And then this morning, all reality hit me square in the head with that missing charger. Because where there is a missing iPhone charger, there is a teenaged girl...in the house.
****My Favorite Controversial Talk Radio Show whom you may be SHOCKed to know that I am sort of in love with.
*As of today, everyone is healthy, and out of quarantine!