The first week of January brought rain, cold pavement, and the kind of routine I had once considered too ordinary to notice.

Chloe returned to school.

I packed her lunch.

Elena made the beds and insisted I stop ordering breakfast from restaurants.

Every evening we read for twenty minutes, although Chloe always bargained for a second chapter.

I thought often of how much of this life I had once outsourced to other people.

I loved my daughter fiercely, but I had allowed work and family dinners to establish a distance between us.

I began closing the office door at five.