The family sleeps, finally, and I sit outside. It’s been a long week. They’re all long weeks, in some ways. We work till midnight and again at 8 am. Clara plays hard until she comes down with the fever that Kristel had earlier in the week, so we go from no child care to caring for a sick child. Sleep suffers further. Tara travels to China and back one afternoon. We buy legos.

In between we try to run in the park, or along the harbor, or by the library. Tara takes C to find new books, our first HK library borrows. We host C’s friends on Sunday, and have the type of long evening with friends that has been rare. Lingering outside as it gets dark, feeding people dinner, cleaning up piecemeal as people move inside. Children’s parties usually end by 6, and the entire evening feels like a reminder of something I’ve never experienced.

I’m reminded of fireflies, and of old colleagues turned humans I miss.

In the mornings, while Panadol is still bringing comfortable sleep to some, I pet the cat, stretch, and sit outside to write. These quiet hours are good for me, despite the tiredness. They’re when I keep in touch with people, and myself. The best things to do are the things that don’t feel like work, and writing and reaching out have never felt like that way.

May they never do.