I walked down the hallway in my socks and stopped at the top of the stairs.

I could hear the rhythmic clink of a spoon hitting ceramic from the kitchen below.

The living room carpet had been vacuumed, and the baby blanket was folded neatly over the arm of the armchair.

June lay on her back inside the bassinet near the south window, sleeping peacefully with one tiny fist pressed against her cheek.

Ethan sat on the middle cushion of the sofa with the Braun ear thermometer resting on the side table.

Across his knees lay the blue spiral care logbook I had bought before June was born.