The kids are in bed. The toys packed away. The tv is off. Our home is still. My evening has arrived.
I pour myself a glass of red. Merlot. Turn on some music. Whitlams. And nestle into the pillows of my couch.
I chat to my husband while he does the dishes. We swap stories and gossip about our day, the kids, work, and a bit later, find ourselves discussing the ecosystems found in bromelias, underwater stereoscopics, animation showreels and Kylie Kwong.
I float happily on the wine and start the first chapter of my book.
I’m happy, mellow, exhausted, satisfied.