It was eight o'clock on a May morning, and Micah, my 17-year-old daughter, was already in our spare room upstairs. It had been her temporary eleventh-grade classroom ever since schools had moved to remote learning due to the pandemic.
From the kitchen, I listened for the sound of her tapping on her laptop or her talking with her classmates in their discussion sessions. We’d barely left the house for 10 weeks straight.
“Mom, everyone is hanging out today!” Micah’s voice echoed from upstairs. “Why can’t I?” I stepped up the stairs. Micah was lying on the floor wearing her pajamas, her laptop, school iPad and cellphone in front of her.
“It’s not fair,” she said.“ I have no one I can be with. I can ‘t wait until I’m 18 and can do what I want.”
We’d had this conversation before. Still, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. I was sick of being alone too. Even though Micah and I were home together more than we had been in years, we might as well have been living in separate worlds.
“Wanna watch videos later?” I asked. “Bake some cookies?”
“No, thanks.” Micah shook her head, as if the idea of doing something together was impossible.
I closed the door. I was used to Micah’s rejection, but it still made me upset. Teenage independence is healthy, but I worried if I didn’t find a way to bond with my girl soon, I might never be close to her again. She’d be 18 in the fall and had already convinced herself she didn’t need me anymore. Maybe she was right. No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to reach her.
That evening, I logged onto a social app and saw a friend’s children playing with their new kitten. My mind went back to when I was in high school and our family moved. It was hard making friends. Mom surprised me with an eight-week-old gray kitten that I named Miss Muffet. Having a kitten to love and train brightened my days and got me through that difficult, lonely time. Maybe Micah would like a kitten.
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I asked if she wanted a kitten.
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In the car, Micah put the kitten under her chin.
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