Something woke me up. I heard what sounded like voices coming from the living room. That couldn’t be, though. No one was home but us.

Groggily I shoved my blankets aside and rubbed my little eyes, listening. I couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but with the stubborn, nosy determination of any 4 year-old, I was going to find out.

I carefully moved toward the door. The only light in my room came from the streetlight outside that threw a dim, gauzy light across the floor. I reached my door and opened it cautiously. I could get in trouble for being up past my bedtime, so I did my best to stay quiet.

I tiptoed around the corner and peered into the living room. I saw mom standing, eyes closed, swaying gently next to the record player wearing our big, clunky headphones. Her soft, melodic voice carried over to me.

“Starry, starry night. Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze…”

I smiled and watched her for a while, then crept back to bed. She never knew I was there.