It is 5:30 on a Monday evening, and my babies are both sleeping.
Patrick is at a welding class, and my friend who was coming for dinner had to cancel at the last minute, because work happens.
I've been sitting here for almost three hours, cuddled up with Samantha, certain she was going to wake up at any moment. Only now, as my fingers fly across the keyboard does she wake, groggy, to chew on the strings of my hoodie and blow raspberries at me. The room has grown dark around me, but I have no desire to switch on the light, yet.
It's twilight, and it's quiet, and it's perfect.