The windows are open. Crickets chirp. It’s 73°F and a breeze blows into the house. The sounds of neighbors at night punctuate the background with bottles and cans poured into a bin, cars pulling into driveways, the shutting of a door.

I’m listening to all of this after a weekend spent moving the 4yo into her own room. Meeting old friends of my wife as our kids splashes at Turtle Pond.

Mozart plays on my speaker reminding, as always, of my mom. A cold glass of wine beads up on the windowsill.