When I was little, I loved tuck-in time, those few minutes at the end of the day shared with my mom. Rarely was there a night without a song or a story my mom would create, which always included my blankie and teddy bear, and always ended with a hug and good-night kiss. “Just two more minutes, please, Mommy” became my nightly plea, and, of course, it never failed.

Now, I wonder what happened to those days when the time I spent with her was so routine. I still cherish the moments we’re together, but they seem all too rare. Nowadays when I walk through the door, I get a “Hello, stranger.” I wish my mom knew I love being home, that I’d like to spend the night with her and Dad watching TV, eating popcorn, and relaxing. But at 17, life expects other things from me. I’ve been told this is the time to live, and I’m trying to get the best out of it.

I’m not saying I didn’t have a life when I was younger, but basically, I lived my mom’s life. Before I had actual places to go (and could drive), I was at her mercy, doing what she wanted. I didn’t mind because I looked up to her. Sometimes I wish I could return to those times when she was the leader. Life was easier and decisions were simple then.

Now, I am choosing a college and a career to pursue. It feels like I am deciding the rest of my life, which is scary and exciting. The pressure can be overwhelming, but through it all, my mom is there.

That’s one of the things I love about her: she is always there. It gives me security to know that that will never change, but the future makes me realize that I will be leaving soon. All that will connect us is an occasional visit, and phone calls. I imagine myself in my college dorm, miles away, hoping for just two more minutes with her.