There’s a state in-between awake and asleep where my mind often wanders and thinks of my kids. Today I heard a voice when they came home from school. I was sleeping in bed, having come home from partial, eaten an early lunch, and put on the YouTube crackling fireplace sounds. I miss them there, feeling like they’re far away.

When I woke up I went downstairs to the boys room. They were in their beds reading. I remember this stage, it’s the same stage the others have gone through when they without you even noticing become more independent, not having to be watched every minute like every minute when they were young. Years and years go by like this.

I sat on the edge of one of the beds and the two of them told me about their books. Dad made a schedule, their daily routine of cold-weather activities. Piano. Chores. Today the three of them cleaned the garage. When I followed them I thought I counted 13 bikes and counted again. I took down the fall wreath and put up the next one.