It's nice around our house at night. After the kids go to bed. After the more boisterous TV shows are over. When the biggest thing on the agenda is House Hunters or the Evening News. It's nice, because that is the time when it's finally just Vicki and I.
It's been almost eighteen years of Vicki and I. That's a big deal. In our extended family, we've been married longer than any of my cousins – even though I wasn't the first to get married. My brother and his wife come in second in that count. That's a huge deal. We had our years of non-kids, and now enjoy our time with kids. The goal is to get back to the non-kids time as soon as that's viable. I'm looking forward to it. Sure, we'll miss the kids. But they're supposed to leave, supposed to follow in our footsteps by heading out to make their own way, to make us proud watching them grow their own families and impact in this world.
Evening time is when the dregs of the day fall to the trash bin. When the stress has finally, for the most part, left the psyche. When tomorrow is full of hope and still a long snooze away. And I get to share it with my best friend. Tonight, we're listening to President Obama's commencement speech at Arizona State. The dog is back and forth, back and forth from the den to her food bowl. I'm typing madly on this post, and Vicki is reading CNN.com or playing on Facebook. We're together, listening and sneezing and whatever else. We're about to head to bed, about to sleep into Thursday.
And it's a good thing. It's a meaningful thing. It's a fun and powerful thing. To be together, to have this quiet time each night – it's a good thing. I can't imagine doing anything else.
Except maybe flipping the channel to tonight's DVR'd MythBusters, right?