It hit 91 degrees, yet I put on a kettle for tea as we all navigate the converging energies of four whole beings at the end of our long day. I’ve told myself that seven-year-olds are reliable narrators and that teenage boys don’t have a care in the world to narrate much to their mama. I have finished folding the last piece of clothing right out of the dryer, at least for the moment. The dishwasher is loaded and pillowcases have been dabbed with essential oils. All that is left is a makeshift nightcap. Tonight’s will be a dose of mint from the garden into the kettle that is brewing, mix in some honey and pour over a glassful of ice. Best to savor down here, the coolest part of the nest. I turned on the festive lights just because.

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