The "kids" are asleep, one on the couch, one in her room, and the puppies out in the yard. I move quietly through the day getting things settled, getting things put away, wishing you would call. Much of my life lay in boxes stacked by my window, but the front room is now ready to be let. I think to call my Dad again about the a/c, about my plumbing. There's rock out in the car needing to be taken up to the porch but it's so much to carry and so dirty. I want to fall asleep in the shade, let cool breezes lull me. I want to put my hand on your cheek, hold you inside me. Instead I stop to write, stop to draw, move forward through the day getting things done.