Sophie climbed onto the edge of her twin bed and unzipped the Velcro pouch in the rabbit’s belly.

She took out the purple toy phone recorder and set it gently next to the gray rabbit at the base of her nightstand lamp.

“Does the purple phone live here now, Mommy?” she asked.

“It stays right there,” I said, straightening the bedside lamp.

She pulled her soft cotton quilt up to her chin and wrapped her arm around the rabbit’s velvety ears.

“Look at the streetlamps, Mommy,” Sophie whispered, pointing at the window.

Across the quiet road, the tall black iron streetlamps flicked on one after another, throwing warm golden light against the glass.

I reached up and turned off the overhead light in the bedroom.

I stood by the windowpane, watching the soft glow of the streetlamps through the clean glass of her bedroom window.