Thanks for tuning in for another moment of fiction. This was a submission to a short story competition for January. The stories always have some words and props they need to be included and this months the story needed to centre around a decision, begin at sunrise and have some other words included. Enjoy!
The sun hadn’t quite risen when Celia rolled out of bed. She had been tossing and turning for hours and her husband’s snoring had finally pushed her over the edge. She made herself a coffee and went to sit on the balcony to watch the new day begin, the last day of 2020.
Many thoughts crowded her mind, but there was one that bulldozed past all the others, demanding her immediate attention. Her daughter Millie. She was going to a friends for a New Year’s Eve party and Celia had struggled with the thought of letting her go. Millie hadn’t asked, she’d announced, Celia apparently didn’t get a say.
She was 18, how did that even happen? It was just yesterday Celia was teaching her to ride a bicycle, to write her name. Just yesterday she was tucking her into bed and smoothing all life’s problems away with their secret nose kisses and squishy hugs and tickles.
Celia had a good relationship with Millie, she trusted her daughter and admired her honesty and ability to stand for her convictions. She was strong and smart and yet Celia was finding it so hard to let go. She was less worried about Millie and more worried about all the “others” she didn’t know who would be there.
She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Millie wouldn’t drink; it was a NYE Party. Celia desperately wanted to stop her from going out, to keep her safe at home, to stop her from getting any older… but this was a fantasy, an unhealthy one at that.
No one warned you about the challenges of transitioning from parent of a teenager to adult. Celia was trying to be patient, she wanted to be that cool mum who gave her daughter space. This calm and reflective Celia was incompatible with terrified control freak Celia who wanted to go and wake Millie up and talk with her again about the dangers of binge drinking, of alcohol being spiked, of people taking advantage of her.
If only she could draw up a contract requiring Millie’s signature that she promised to stay safe.
Celia let out a deep sigh and finished the last of her coffee, the decision had been made. Even though her stomach was in knots and her jaw was aching from being clenched so tight, she had to let go. The verdict had been decided way before this event was ever even imagined, each birthday bringing it closer until permission was no longer requested or required.
Her husband’s loud snore travelled out of the bedroom to her balcony reverie bringing Celia back to reality, she stood, stretched and recognized what she had been avoiding. She could no longer be the parent of a child, she was now the parent of an adult.
treasureinjarofclay 