The air is as thick and warm as an old quilt. One of our first real summer days, though, so I’m not complaining. Windows are open and fans whir.

Daughter is asleep on my lap and I’m on our bed, waiting to transfer her into the crib for the night.

I look out the open window and am surprised by the moon. The big window is usually closed at night, and I’ve never looked out of it at this time of day.

The moon is bright yellow, a perfect half-circle hanging in a sky that is more dark, dark, blue than black. I can see the faint shadows etched on its surface. Are they seas? Or craters? I’ll have to look it up.

The noise of the day is absolved in this silence. On a day filled with the logistics of combing hair, changing diapers and the always mad rush to dinner, the moon reminds me of wonder and dreams.

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