I’m curled up on the couch as dusk approaches. The room is cool and dim, warm light coming from the kitchen. I hear the soft hum and crackle of the oven and my hands, tucked up under my chin, smell like the rosemary sprinkled over vegetables for tonights dinner. Occasionally I hear the soft voices of the kids, playing together nicely for a change. I snuggle in, listening but not really, drowning in the scent of home cooked meals. Bliss.