I Retired to Rest, Then My Daughter Drafted Me Into Motherhood Again

on.

Then she says, “Mom, what is happening?”

I want to say, I retired. I was supposed to be done.

Instead I say the smallest, truest thing.

“I’m tired.”

Jessica scoffs—not because she doesn’t believe me, but because she hears it as an accusation.

“I’m tired too,” she snaps.

There it is. The competition. The modern Olympics: Who’s more exhausted.

I nod. “I continue reading …