Interrupting

It's late at night.

I open my bedroom door, with the intention of letting the dogs out again,

since they were pansies and didn't want to go out in the rain earlier.

As I step into the hall,

I see light shining from under my daughter's door,

and mere seconds later, the snick of the lamp switch being turned off.

Knowing this was not mere coincidence,

I lurk quietly in front of my door,

my eyes glued to where the light had just been shining moments before.

I was certain that in a minute or two, the light would turn back on.

You know those sneaky teens.

A minute passes, then two.

Just as I am beginning to think I called her wrong,

I hear a voice.

She's talking to someone in the dark.

Dammit! I think to myself.

She's talking on her cell phone. It's too late and she knows better.

The talking continues, her voice rising and falling.

Quickly and decisively, I stride up to her door and push it open.

"Who are you talking to?" I ask roughly, as my eyes seek the guilty glow of the cell phone.

Startled, she answers quickly: "God."

Oh.

And so she was.

I just snuck up and busted my daughter.. who was praying.

Embarrassed, I mutter a "Don't let me interrupt. Good night, Kate."

as I turn back and close the door behind me.

I know a whole lot less than I think I do, sometimes.