Night

My daughter was hiding somewhere upstairs. (She'd accidentally hurt her brother.) Blake nursed his wounds in a chair he'd drawn right up to the wall, his ear near a speaker, to better hear the Radiolab podcast about evolution and altruism. My husband came downstairs to tell me something, got interested in the podcast and stretched out on the couch, listening too. The sounds on that show command one's attention, you know? Outside it was dark – it's always dark – but our fire crackled as Jad and Robert told a sad, sad story about George Price. I turned my back on the dinner dishes. I sat on the floor near my son so that I could hear, too.

Sasha crept downstairs like the fog, on little cat feet. She watched me let the hem out of her pajamas. "I want to try," she said, and then finished the job for me. My husband fell asleep.

When the podcast ended Blake got up and chose another. "This one is my favorite," he said, grinning, pleased. Sasha finished unhemming as Jad & Robert contemplated time. She wandered upstairs to bed. Blake's eyelids drooped. He curled into a blanket and slept.

Goodnight stars

Goodnight air

Goodnight noises everywhere