Late afternoon

During the winter, evening sneaks into afternoon. I'll be sitting on the comfy couch, reading a book or writing on my laptop computer, or maybe sitting on the floor playing blocks with the two little neighbor kids who have been coming over a lot lately. Sunlight will be coming in the west windows, touching the piano and bookcases with gold. But moments later, I'll look up from the page or the screen or the block pile, and I'll notice that the room is filled with shadows, that the sunlight has gone.

Once I notice the darkness, it moves in quickly. Shaggy Hair Boy, doing homework in the chair, will turn on the lamp. I'll carry in some wood and build a fire. The windows turn into dark mirrors that reflect the flames, the lamps, the kids on the couch. This is where we will be, mostly, all winter long, settled in front of the fire every evening with books and laptop computers and plates of food. Outside, snow falls through bare branches. All around the house, the woods hold onto the darkness.