When I was little, I would always fall asleep on the couch while watching television with my family at night. The next morning, I would always mysteriously end up in my bed, wrapped tight in blankets and impervious to the cold that awaited me. No matter how big I grew, I’d always be brought up the stairs and tucked in bed. Sometimes, my younger brother would sleepwalk downstairs late at night and he’d still end up in his bed in the morning. My mom and dad would always stay up to make sure we were safely in bed, with our favorite stuffed animal in our arms and in a cocoon of blankets.
Since high school has started, I’ve had to stay up late doing homework many nights. On bad nights I’ll sit at my desk from 3 pm to 2 am, breaking only for dinner or a planned activity. My dad will go up to bed because he has to wake up early for work in the morning. He’ll say, “Goodnight. Don’t stay up too late. Love you.” Now, my mom is the one that falls asleep in front of the television. Now, I’m the one that, when I finish my work late, has to wake her up, take her upstairs, and make sure she’s tucked, warm in her bed. I’ll wake her up and she’ll be disoriented and babbling, finally standing up after two minutes of believing she’s still in a dream. I half-carry her upstairs and kiss her on the check. I make sure she gets in her bed with my dad and is warm and protected.
I know that she won’t remember it in the morning, like I could not when I was little. I know she’ll wake up wondering how she mysteriously made it upstairs, like I had. She is no longer the one that tucks me in at night, that makes sure I’m safe. This doesn’t sadden me, though. It makes me appreciate all that she, and my father, had done for me when I was little: waking me up and trying to decipher whatever I was saying, dragging me up those 50 dreadful steps, plopping me on my soft bed, and wrapping me in my warm blankets. In a way, it feels as if I’m repaying them for all they’ve done for me. I know when I go to college, I’ll have to pass this torch on to one of my younger brothers and it’ll be their turn. It will be their opportunity to repay the love my parents have given to each and every one of us. Still, I sometimes long for those nights when I was little and oblivious to the problems of the world, when my dad would carry me up the stairs over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, when my mom would give me a pillow to make the pain go away, and when their love could protect me from any obstacle ahead.