A Bedtime Story The evening ritual with my daughters has changed over time, but it’s still magical. “TELL ME ANOTHER story, Mom.” My kindergartner Leah’s bedtime books were read, and the lights were switched off. She was tucked in, but she didn’t want me to leave. “Okay, just one more quick story. About what?” I asked, hoping for a caring but swift exit. I still needed to help her little sister off to dreamland and wrap up my leftover work from the day. “How about a rainbow ghost?” Leah said, prompting the story that would carry her away to a whimsical dreamscape. OK, sure. “Once upon a time…” Leah’s bedtime stories always
opened with this centuries-old warmup. I had no idea where the plot was headed. I just let my mind wander. I would concoct the silliest scenarios, painting pictures in both our minds. “There was lightning and thunder outside the witch’s hut. The witch was inside making a potion with the glowing green gem. Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door…” Each night, Leah would beg for a new story, and I was eager to discover what would pour from my imagination when it was cracked open and left to breathe. Tales of ghosts, tooth fairies, magic gems, wandering unicorns, dancing hip-
26 January/February 2024 ■ ArlingtonMagazine.com
pos, friendly cats and girls who loved cats would briefly come to life. “Make it a little bit scary this time!” she said one night, daring me to conjure a whole new set of spooky character scenes. “Ruth was dreaming. She was walking through a forest. There was a full moon. And she heard a ‘HOOOOWWWWL!’ ” Whenever my brain grew tired and tapped out, I wrapped up the story with “… and she lived happily ever after.” The lights stayed off, and with one last hug and a kiss, I was on to my next appointment to tuck in her little sister. Unlike Leah, who wanted a new character and a new story each night, Audrey always wanted her favorite “baby story.” “And the baby felt so warm and snuggly in her mommy’s arms that she closed her eyes and went to sleep.” With that refrain, I lulled Audrey to slumber by narrating the very thing we were doing.
ADOBE STOCK
my life ■ by Catherine Davis
