My daughter goes for a sleepover party.  It’s not her first yet still, the house feels odd without her.

The phone rings at 10:30 at night.

Oh oh.

I wait as I watch with big eyes as my husband picks it up:  hope nothing’s wrong.

He seems weird on the phone and says just a minute, hands it over to me.

“They asked for Mommy.”

My eyebrows go up.

I take the phone and say hello.

“Who is this?!” the grown woman asks crabbily.  When I tell her, she says she wants Joanna.  I tell her she has the wrong number.

The sleepover goes wonderfully.


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