Sherlock Holmes in the afternoons, since Dawna has been sick, and we all just gather around, unbidden. I love it when we spontaneously collect in the living room for one reason or another. We enjoy ourselves too much then and life is muchly worth the living.
Afterwards, there's that hour between six o'clock and seven, when the dishes are washed, and it feels like a Sarah, Plain and Tall: Winter's End evening, with the wind like Kansas howling past the corners of the house, and we laze about wherever we want! Kitty whiskers twitch, and you lay down on the rug to hear them purr. Daddy sits in his recliner, spectacles perching on the end of his nose. My sister sings from the kitchen sink, and a fan blows in a room. Then seven, when we, all of us, read together. Kitties included. We knit, my sister and I. We all listen. Someday there will be a day when we're not all there to enjoy one another. When there will be a spare seat on the couch for once, and someone will be living in another house, reading with another part of family at night. Those days come, surely.
But for tonight, we all listen together. Just being.