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�wake up,� says mommy. �i�m lonely.�

i blink and scrunch up my face and reach for my glasses. mommy slips into focus when i plop them on my nose. she�s leaning over me in her shiny blue nightgown and smiling in a way that makes her mouth look too big for her face. i can also see the clock behind her (i learned how to tell time this year.) � it says 12:14. even though it�s a school night and i know i should go back to sleep, i reach up my arms to her and she pulls me to her soft chest and hooks her arm under my knees. she carries me like, this, baby-style, onto the couch in the other side of out apartment.

mommy wakes me up like this a lot. she says that she doesn�t want to be alone at night, and that since i�m her best friend in the whole world, she wants me with her. i always say yes, even though it makes me sleepy the next day. she makes us a special snack like popcorn or waffles and we stay up and watch tv, usually jay leno. i lie with my head against her shoulder and she strokes my hair. whenever she catches me looking up at her, she says, �what�s up, holly-o?� and i say, �the ceiling, mommy-o!� and she laughs real hard, and smiles in that big way. when she doesn�t catch me looking, though, i can see what her face really looks like late at night; tired, with lines in her forehead and sad eyebrows and ringed with blue light from the television. i see that she looks scared.

tonight we sit on the sofa and suck on popsicles (hers: red. mine: purple.) and glow in the light of the tv. mommy braids my hair while jay talks to a girl named kate who did a movie. i lean into her and smell her mommy smell, warm and clean and leafy. while the studio audience laughs and she starts to make a second pigtail, i say, �mommy, you can�t sleep, huh?�

she stops for a second and drops my braid. then she sighs, softly, and says, �no, i can�t, holly.�

the band starts playing and the girl waves.

�why not?� i�m touching the silky skirt of her nightgown, and not looking at her. at the tv, instead.

she picks up my hair and starts making the braid again, but slower. �because i have to wait.� she says this real soft, and something about the way she breaths it onto my back makes me think that it�s important.

there�s a commercial on now, with a talking teddy bear. �what are you waiting for?� i ask mommy, thinking this is important over and over, like rain or drums.

�i don�t know, holly-o.� says mommy. this is important, this is important. banging in my head. �but i have to stay up and wait.� i turn and look at her now, and see that her face is wet and pink.

i throw my arms around her neck and hug her real hard because, i think, it�s what i�m supposed to do.

mommy just keeps on crying, and it�s okay, and i�m crying too, because we both know we�re waiting for something and we don�t know what. for something to change.

the next commercial is on and it�s the psychic lady saying i can tell you your future and i think we should call, because i want to know what�s going to come next, when we can stop waiting and staying up at night in the blueish glow.