one mix tape for two broken hearts

48 hours in the life of two mother daughter break-ups (mix tape included)

It was a Wednesday night and I had just wrapped my post-shower pre-date towel around my hair when I saw the text.

“Mom. We broke up.”

Her cries were audible as I flung open the bathroom door and ran wet-footed down the hall where I found my teenage daughter in fetal position, sobbing beneath a frame of LED lights.

“It’s over,” she gasped between tears. “It’s all over.”