Day 59: 5 January 2026

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 Short Story


The house was quiet.

She sat down on the sofa — the lights were off but the hall light was on casting a glow over the space — surveying the room. She set her glass of water on a coaster on the table. And exhaled. Leaning her head back.

Upstairs the kids were tucked up in bed. The oldest reading for another half an hour. The youngest already fast asleep.

She’d checked on each of them before sitting down.

She relished this time of the day.

She loves spending her day with her kids. The oldest are in school most of the day to be fair. But she has her youngest at home. And she enjoys hearing about her two oldests’ days when they return from school.

Today they came home with stories about building snowmen at recess. Her son had proudly pulled out his drawing from art class for her to hang on the fridge. It was of a dinosaur and a ballerina dancing under a disco ball. Her daughter had excitedly shared that she’d gotten 100% on her math test from earlier in the week.

Today she and her youngest had made cookies together, played with her dolls, and coloured pictures. They’d also gone for a walk together with a stop at the local playground.

Today she’d made breakfast for everyone, packed lunches, did drop off, folded laundry, filled and ran the dishwasher at least twice, put the youngest down for a nap, picked up the older two, made dinner, and tidied the kitchen and living room.

Her days were full and at times her nights still felt short but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

And now she could just be in the silence. This was her time — the time between everyone else needing something from her and her husband getting home (he didn’t work a traditional 9-5). She could read. She could watch a movie or show. She could just zone out.

The house was quiet and she smiled, tired but with a heart full of love and pride.

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