Days like today, I’ve never been more excited. Not only had I spent the day with the love of my life, but I had just gotten accepted to the University of my dreams. I woke up this morning to the letter sitting on the kitchen counter, next to my nervous looking mother. ‘Look, Jessica, Look,’ she said, pushing it toward me. ‘No matter what it says, I’m proud of you.’ I open the letter and begin to read aloud:
‘Dear Jessica Daniels,
We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance-’
I couldn’t finish the sentence before my mother began screaming and crying at the same time. She hugged me tightly, and we sat in a loving embrace for a few minutes before she absolutely needed to leave for work. She told me how proud she was of me, kissed me on my forehead, and hustled off to her job.
Immediately after she left, I called my boyfriend, Jacob. I told him I had exciting news and invited him to meet me for breakfast. When I told him, he told me how proud he was of me and how much I deserved it. Today I felt so much love.
As I drive home after this incredible day, I think about how lucky I am. I grew up in this goofy little town where I have been provided with so many opportunities and so much support. On days like today, when the day fades into the night, when the sky transitions from blue, to orange to black, I think of how much I’ll miss it-

Days like today I’ve never been so frustrated. Days like today mislead you with happiness and then distract you with anger and chaos. I started today so proud- my daughter, who I raised on my own, was accepted into college! The dreams I could never fulfill, she now can. My only baby, my pride and joy, she’ll be leaving, to go to a school far away to better her life. The feeling was so bittersweet.
I wish I could’ve basked in the moment a little while longer. Take the time to truly celebrate her success, as any parent would want to. But no, duty calls.
I arrive at work five minutes late, and already the diner is busy. I put on my apron as fast as I can and rush to the kitchen. This was my dream, I think to myself, when I was nineteen and pregnant and needed something to support a child. I start making tickets as fast as I can, to keep up with the Saturday morning breakfast rush. My manager enters the kitchen as he watches me struggle to make tickets.
“Ellen.” He says, in his firm tone.
“Yes sir?” I respond, nervously.
“You’re late.”
“I know sir, I-”
“Don’t let it happen again. This is your second warning.” He walks away before I even have the chance to defend myself.
When I take my lunch, I decide I should call Jessica. She’s probably with her friends or her boyfriend. I dial her up, and she quickly answers, right as my phone dies.
“ Damn,” I whisper to myself. I forgot to charge it the night before because I got home so late.
After a long, 10 hour shift I can’t wait to put my feet up and spend some time with my baby. I pull myself out of my car, grab the large, worn out, red handbag from the passenger seat and walk up the stairs to my apartment.
“I’m home baby,” I call out to no response. She’s probably still out with her boyfriend. I go to listen to the unread messages on the machine.
You have one unread message 7:18 PM
“Ellen Daniels, your daughter, Jessica Daniels is in West Valley Hospital-”
I can’t even finish the rest of the voicemail before I take my keys and go.
On days like today, when I think it can’t get any worse until life shows me that indeed it can.

Days like today I’ve never been so hopeless. When Jess’s mom called me late last night about the accident, my first emotion was guilt. I should’ve called to make sure she got home okay. What would that have helped if she was in an accident and couldn’t call. I could have followed her home to make sure she got home okay. Then maybe they could’ve helped her sooner and we wouldn’t be so unsure right now. But there’s nothing I can do now, except wait for someone to tell me what’s going on.
There is nothing worse than waiting rooms. You’re on one side of the door, while someone you love is fighting for their life on the other side. Nothing separates you except for a door, but entering it could only worsen the situation by distracting the doctors and getting kicked out. So for now, I wait with her mother and silently pray.
Her mother is softly sobbing. I hold her hand and tell her everything will be okay, even though I don’t know that it will. We sit there for what seems like forever until a petite gray nurse in blue scrubs calls out: “Jessica Daniels.”
Ms. Daniels and I jump up to greet her. “She’s out of surgery. She was put into a medically induced coma, but you can see her.”
Her mother continues to sob as the nurse leads us into the room. She sides open a curtain revealing my beautiful girlfriend. She’s connected to several tubes intertwined to the point I can’t differentiate them. Her long black hair that a few hours ago was pin straight and shining is now in a dull, curly heap. Her right arm is wrapped in a cast and her body is covered in random bandages. I take her unbroken hand in mine. I realize that it is the only part of her that is not bandaged or bruised and I kiss her knuckles. On days like today, where all I can do is sit here and be supportive of her and her mom, I do the only thing I know to do: Pray.