He caught a glimpse of his face reflected in the bottle. God, he looked pale; partly because of the residue of the makeup, partly because he was old. At 50, he should be considered “middle-aged,” but after 35 years working in the circus full-time, he considered himself old.

I heard distant, cheerful chirping: so sweet and reminding me of the summers of my childhood, where my bedroom window was just steps from the woods and I would hear a chorus of songbirds seemingly trying to wake me every morning from my deep, dreamless sleep. As I listened more intently, I noticed the chirping was closer, and from one bird. Chirp, pause, chirp, pause. It was almost rhythmic and…digital.

Possibly my favorite time of day during the work week is the 20 minutes or so between dropping my daughter off at daycare and pulling into the parking lot at work. It may be the only time during the day where I’m all alone.

My husband, Brian, left for New Orleans early this morning, carrying two overstuffed bags. My son, Connor, and I, both sleepy and sad, waved goodbye in our pajamas as he drove away, shivering in the cold March air.