The coffee pot pops and hisses its final drips of brew. My baby coughs. He’s okay, I still have to tell myself this about every noise so I don’t go in and wake him up checking on him. A faint thump from downstairs makes the dog bark. And now I can hear Littlefoot sleep-singing a mumbly song.

These are the sounds of my mornings. One day they will sound so different, I want to remember this. The small sounds. The sleepy children. The energetic puppy, almost grown. When the children have beds in their own homes and after the dog has lifted his head for the last time, I will sometimes want these mornings back. But time does not work that way, so I want to remember it now.