I leave my children chatting in the hallway outside their bedroom doors. As I crawl into bed, my sixth grader and my eighth grader verbally rib each other in a way that only siblings can. They get loud for a brief moment. The high-pitched giggle, the playfully exasperated growl. I imagine that their antics will rouse Dom and bring out the Daddy-growl, but he breathes steadily beside me. I won’t be reminding him tonight that someday we will miss this revelry. The quiet we often long for will cover our home like a blanket soon enough. These two noise-makers will grow up and leave our chipper little nest.
Tonight their chatter reassures me. Before I am aware that the banter has stopped I hear his door close. The hallway dims with the flip of her switch.
I stare into wordless darkness for a few minutes before I bury my face in the pillow. I pray that I will remember to appreciate the noise in our house, as it will only last for the next