I am in my middle school apartment–otherwise known as the upstairs of my family home

I am in my dreams, probably the very deep sleep that only teens can achieve on a Saturday morning.

Annoyed at the thumping on my door– irritated to half wakefulness

I stumble and stomp to the door–full of 13 year old disdain

But then

Chubby fingers in flannel sleeves reach out for me with delight

Innocent eyes round with surprise as the open door and her stability swing away

Panicked adrenaline shoves me forward grasping for her hand 

I missed

Her toddler body teeters back on the top stair

What if I hadn’t caught her shirt?

What if I hadn’t pulled her to me?

What if the relief I felt as she lived 

Never happened?

What if?

I hug her close.