Steven Easton

I Don't Know

Friday, May 17

Iowa weather is bipolar. I'm sorry, but this is kind of annoying. When it thunderstorms for 12+ hours it kind of gets old. Ava could not sleep, which meant she came in my room at three in the morning. If I had been asleep when she came in, she probably would've gotten a less than kind response, but I was wide awake because that thunder was roaring like a lion.

"I hate this." She walked in. 

Sitting up slightly as I stretched, I yawned. "Me, too."

"I haven't been able to sleep for like two hours." She sat on the edge of my bed, so I got up. 

The good news was that I was that I was warm, so standing up felt good, especially when my feet hit the hardwood. "I've been dosing on and off." Running a hand down my face, I walked out of the room to go to the bathroom because my master did not have a bathroom.

When I came back into my room, Ava was laying on the edge of my bed. I could tell from the hallway nightlight. "Hey, sleep in your own bed, ya silly goose. I didn't get you a bed for nothing."

"I don't want to sleep anymore."

"Then go watch Netflix." Leaning on the doorway, I folded my arms. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, I get it. After awhile, trying to sleep is more exhausting than anything." I paused. "But after an episode or two, go to bed." 

When I woke this morning, Ava was asleep on the couch with the TV on, asking if she was still watching. Because I'm a cruel uncle, I decided to wake her up with the song "Friday" because she hates it. 

Groaning, she covered her face. "Turn it off."

Deciding to not be mean anymore, I honored her request. "Wake up, sunshine."

"What time is it?" 

"You have time. Get up."

Luckily, when I arrived at work, the rain had let up for a bit of time. The day dragged on because it's Friday and none of us wanted to be there. Honestly, even though this isn't legal, I let my kids have a free day. I told them they needed to read, but I didn't really care if they were on their phones. Who doesn't need a Free-Read-Friday? During this time, I started editing one of my novels I wrote awhile back. (And, no, you can't read it.)

Tonight, we got to go to a grad party for one of my girls at my church. Her name is Sammy, and she has an immense amount of faith in God, which has been inspiring to watch over the last two years.

Bringing both Ava and Morgan was okayed by Sammy on Wednesday night. Grad parties are interesting because they are always so busy. You get three minutes to talk with the person, and then they have to move on to the next person, but the good news is there's usually cake. Ava was very tired tonight, and when she's tired, she's moody, so she didn't want to stay long.

When we got back to house, I told Ava that she needed to shower before going to bed, but Morgan decided to stay after.

"In seven years," Morgan said as we were just chilling on the couch, "we're going to have to plan a grad party."

Gulping, my heart skipped a beat. "Wow. I guess I'm basically halfway done raising her."

"You're never done raising a child."

"You're right."

"You're the only parent she'll really ever consider as her real parent."

"I'm aware." Then I looked at Morgan. "Dude. What do I do when she starts liking boys?"

"Buy a gun."

Laughing out loud, I then bit my lip in angst. "But I don't think she needs another family member in prison for murdering someone."

"Yeah, no, she doesn't."

"Okay, but really, how am I supposed to let her go out on dates alone with guys? They say that girls end up with guys most like their fathers, so if I'm basically her dad, does that mean that she'd end up with a guy like me or her biological father?"

"Hopefully she ends up with a guy like you." She kissed my neck.

"I don't know if I want her with a guy who was like 18-year-old me though," I confessed.

"I don't think you really want her with any guy at 18."

"She's not allowed to date until she's 30; I am making that rule now."

"We're not even 30," she reminded me.

"I feel 35 somedays, and I feel 15 other days."

"How old do you feel right now?"

Thinking about this for a moment, I said, "What does age really mean? What does experience even mean?"