Evening.

How much do I love you, evening?

Oh, so very much.

When I used to be a nine-to-fiver I couldn't wait to go home. It didn't matter if I loved my job or hated it or a little bit of both. I would sit at my desk and think about what to have for dinner, what was on TV, who got home first. Then I'd get a warm feeling. That feeling is love.

I love, love, love evening.

It is home. It's where everyone convenes at the end of a long, busy, day.

It's stories of our day, discussions of school projects, directing plans for the weekend, smelling dinner in the oven, calming babies...it's that warm feeling.

It's cleaning up after dinner (or not), plopping on the couch and watching our favorite shows together. Gabe and I laughing while looking over at Manny to see if he's laughing. Because if Manny is laughing it must be really funny.

That feeling I seriously can physically feel in the space where my heart sits.

Earlier this evening I started to feel that feeling again. But strong. Like a fire. And I remembered how I loved evenings. How could I forget? Well, I don't feel so warm and fuzzy when I'm complaining about what to make for dinner, the mess I have to clean up, and the babies tag teaming me, both needing to be held. Those happenings tend to put out my happy, little fire.

But this evening, I turned the music up and brought Lola into the kitchen with me. She sat in her bouncy seat and giggled. I made tuna noodle casserole. The big boys were gone doing big boy stuff and Christian was sleeping. And I got that moment back. I was so happy and content that I almost lit a scented candle. Yes, a scented one.

I remembered how much I love evenings.