In the night, with my head buried deep inside the silence of my pillow, I tried to ignore the sounds. I could hear them even though I pushed my ears further and further into the soft pillow. I could hear the shuffling then stopping, the sound of closets being opened then frustrated tired hands fidgeting with the doorknob. Mom was never able to open the door when she was sleepwalking. I knew that, even as I lay in bed, I knew that she’d never manage to open the door.

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