Walks.

Birthdays.

Drawings on the refrigerator.

A child learning to talk and two adults learning, again and again, how to listen.

Before turning out the kitchen light, I checked the thermostat.

Then I opened the refrigerator one more time, not because I feared it would be empty, but because I was grateful it wasn’t.

Maya stood in the doorway holding the baby monitor.

“Coming to bed?”
“Right behind you.”
I switched off the light and followed my family down the hall.

For the first time in a long while, nothing important was waiting for me anywhere else.