Each night before I go to bed, I go into my childrens’ room and listen to them breathing. I can’t sleep if I go to bed without doing this. My boy breathes very loudly, snoring almost. The girl breathes so quietly that I have to put my head next to her lips to hear. I’ve been doing this since they were born. I’ll probably do it as long as they live with us. After they’ve both left home, I imagine I’ll feel a melancholy ache each night as I walk down the hallway to bed. Funny, the rituals that comfort us.