I'm reminded of the Velveteen Rabbit, and how he felt when he was forgotten under the bed. I feel that way sometimes. Their vibrancy gone, the house, so quiet, empty but for me and the dogs, and the radio. The cat doesn't make any noise at all.
Before I reach for the light, I plump the Rainbow Brite pillow my mom made for Sara when she was only four. Mom's been gone that many years now. The pillow is almost as bright as the day she "ran it up" on the machine. It was her favorite hobby, sewing.
I have several grandchildren now. They are the ones who inhabit this room, and the chambers of my heart. They are the ones who keep time, and illustrate its passage so innocently.
I glance around once more, then click off the light and head for the computer. And Facebook. Maybe their mom has posted some new pictures. They grow up so fast. I think that's one reason I write for young people. My Phantom Series is perfect for reading aloud with your middle grader.