Tentacle Fingers and a Mother’s Reflection

314
Tree Shadows by Hannah Rubenstein for Tentacle Fingers by Kate Kampner

Tentacle fingers and a scattered-tooth grin are the first things I see in the morning. A giggle soon follows which activates the sleepy warmth in my body. The bed feels like a pillow of clouds that holds you back from your morning routine. She’s standing there in bright green froggy pajamas that we put on together last night. Her brown curls are short, but passionate, and as always are knotted together which I usually take care of after I take care of my own. The soft coils of hair intertwine with my fingers as I carefully untangle them, trying not to pull too hard. Our greetings begin with my “Good morning sunshine,” followed by a sudden but expected weight of a cuddle and a giggle in response. She smells like the Suave Green Apple shampoo that she plastered on (for the first time by herself). The absent smell on my own hands stands as a reminder that every day she grows just a little bit stronger. Some days when she’s not home, I sneak the bottle into my shower and place a drop on my own tentacle fingers.

What do you think about this topic? We want to hear from you!
Join the conversation!
Kate Kamper is a member of the class of 2022 at Columbia High School in Maplewood, New Jersey. Kate is the drum major of her school's marching band and the editor-in-chief of her school's art and literary magazine, The Guildscript. She has a large love for reading and writing as well as being outside. Her favorite animals are cows and whales. In the fall of 2022, Kate will be studying English and Environmental Studies at the University of Vermont.
Accompanying photo: “Tree Shadows” by Hannah Rubenstein