Three Doors

This morning before work I look down the second-floor hallway. All three doors are closed. All three girls are home and sleeping in their rooms rather than the basement, the couch in the office or on the deck.

I pause for a moment at the top of the stairs, savoring the rightness of this, knowing, even as a I savor, how rare and precious it is.

The hall in this half light is cropped and close; in it, we seem more together than apart.