Today is quiet. Cold and rainy. Twelve degrees up by the house and less than ten by the water. We are by the fire, naturally. Lochlan, who I am wedged up against, is replying to emails on his iPad. Ben is asleep, napping soundly, his head in my lap, the rest of him stretched for miles around right to the end of the built-in couch in the great room, as I call it, the big open section off the kitchen that has the retractable doors that open the whole way across the back of the house to blend it seamlessly with the patio. We tore out the shelves and pretty window seats when we moved in and made a huge comfortable couch the length of the whole wall and brought in the edges so it wraps around the woodstove. There are windows above and behind us and underneath us loads of storage. So comfortable. The firewood basket is always fully stocked and there is never a time this couch isn't holding one or five people, truth be told.
So today there is only room for three.
Ben has been up since eight or so. He made eggs and toast with me, drank two cups of coffee and gave me a bass lesson. Lochlan was up by eight-thirty to have coffee and we did some chores around the house but now it's the quiet part of the day where people go off to do their things, and here we are.
I put my head back and close my eyes and a hand brushes my (too long again) bangs to one side, tucking my hair behind my ears. A Lochlan move, then a Cole one, followed by Caleb, and then Jake. Back to Lochlan, only he's index-finger typing and hasn't stopped. My eyes snap open but there's no one else here and the light tapping noises continue.
You fall asleep there? Lochlan laughs quietly.
Maybe, I tell him. Did I? It didn't feel like a dream but maybe it was.