Our living room doubles as a stage .
On certain days, often late afternoon or early evening, when the light is dying outside and glowing inside, we, each of us, simultaneously, get that sense that there is no place we would rather be than inside this house with each other.
We don't necessarily interact so much as we simply be, together.
Some do homework. While others dance.
And her ability to choreograph to the obscure rhythms in her head, I think, is remarkable. She's all grace and flow and creativity. That is until she dances herself right off her feet. She does that quite a lot.
"Mom watch this. Look Mom. Mom, you're not watching."
Room to live. In our living room.