The sun sets behind our house. Golden light filters through, shadows darken. The breeze shifts from warm to cool. It is a comforting part of the routine, the pattern, the rhythm of our days.
Giggles rise from the sandbox and waft into the open kitchen window. A desperate plea for just two more minutes of play. She knows bath time will be soon and that means bed will follow. She knows the routines, the patterns, the rhythm of our days.
The dogs pace, anxious for their walk. Dinner has been served and devoured, light is fading quickly. They know that the running bath water and sound of clean up means their adventure time draws near. They know the routines, the patterns, the rhythm of our days.
The table gets cleared, dishes scraped. Laundry is gathered and tossed into the machine. We know the silence of sleep will come soon and take advantage of this last hour of noise. We know the routines, the patterns, the rhythm of our days.
She falls asleep. The dogs find their places to curl up. The dreaming begins. We sit together, enjoying our time with the quiet. My head on his chest, sharing the stories of our day.
I love our routines.
I love the patterns.
I love the rhythm of our days.
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