The house is quiet. And a mess. Old quilts unused for years now billow on the floor on top of the heat vent. Our couch, made up of several cushions that are never in their place, is in its mismatched arrangement for the day. Two remain on the floor next to the blankets, a cozy spot for each boy. The heat goes on, the quilts rise up over their  legs like a hot air balloon ready for lift off.  A cushion softens the bookshelf backrest. Manipulating Star Wars action figures to match the story imagined in each head made the time before school pass by quickly.

When the boys leave and I’m finally ready to head out too, the pets choose their prime cozy spots for the day. The dog creeps slowly from his bed on the floor toward the couch, sheepishly climbs up, turns a half circle and lays down, hoping nobody noticed. The old cat cuddles in the blanket left behind on the vent with enough folds in it to tuck himself into a valley of warmth. Star Wars guys still lay beside him, but he doesn’t mind the tiny gun pointed in his direction. He only opens his eyes a little just to make sure I’m not going to disturb his peace, then closes them again and sighs.