When my daughter gets tired toward the end of the night, which doesn't happen all that often, she tell's me that she has "tired eyes." It always reminds me of those nights as a kid when I got "tired eyes." Those nights when I watched television deep into the night, trying to stay up longer than my dad, but always failing. Those nights when my parents would take us to the drive-in for a double feature and I try desperately to stay awake, only to fail. Those nights when I would be in the back seat of the car on a ride home from one place or another and trying to watch the lights pass out the window, trying to watch the stars, and trying not to give in to the stillness of the night and nod off. On those nights when I would manage to stay awake, I would do my best acting that I was fast asleep as we pulled into the driveway. My dad would open the car door, pick my sister up first and carry her in, and then come back to get me. Today, when my daughter tells me she has tired eyes, I wonder what my parents were thinking back then.
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