close to midnight/ sisters

Being a mom is full of contradicting thoughts.

Like – nearing midnight, I hear laughter and quiet, rightfully happy chatter from the bedroom my three daughters share with one another.

You. Guys.

Three girls – three sisters – share ONE small bedroom. They are literally stacked in their like camp bunks. A triple bunk, actually. An incredibly cute and darling crafted just for them triple bunk – but still – a triple bunk.

Their personal space is limited. The three of them share ONE closet. Two teenage girls. One tween.

And they make it work. Mostly.

But they’re normal human girls so there are plenty of disagreements about the lights and the closet doors and the level at which various girls choose to maintain their clothes in said single closet.

So the sounds I routinely hear emerge from this room are a cacophony of discord and frustration. Of Can you turn off the light? to I can’t sleep in the total darkness.

Which means, when I hear stifled giggles and secret sharing, talk of boys and art and movies, I just cannot make myself instruct them to quiet down. To go to sleep. To stop talking.

It’s as if it would feel like a crime to step into that room at that moment and say, “Stop communicating well with one another. Stop getting along. Stop enjoying your unique sisterhood. Stop building memories that will outlive those bunk beds. Stop laughing. Stop creating a tighter bond.”