It was late, and Matt and I were in bed after a whirlwind of preparations for his trip to Asia early this morning - mining the piles of camping laundry for clothes for him to pack, getting the garbage day details straight since he wouldn't be here to do it (THEN WHY DID I MARRY YOU, I usually say), figuring out what baseball events I would have to drive Angus to, and a few other things (but this is not that kind of blog - usually). Matt was asleep and I was reading on my ipad in the dark. Eve was asleep down the hall and everything was dark. Then there were quiet footsteps on the stairs and through the crack in our slightly-open door I saw the bathroom light go on. I realized that I had assumed Angus was already in bed, but now here I was, lying in bed listening to the hum-and-rattle of water, the soft click of toothbrush and soap dish. It was a complete reversal of being small, tucked up and listening to the sounds of my parents getting ready for bed, which was always such a lovely, comforting feeling, and that last light going off was the signal that everyone was in safely for the night. As it was now, and everyone was still in safely, but the signal was sort of reversed.
It didn't make me sad. It was nice. It was just... different.