I like how children fill up the nooks and crannies of my days when I babysit. Even now, as I write in the quiet house, I know that the kids will start stirring at 6:40. It’s a school day. Lights will come on. The brother will wake the sister. What to wear will be discussed. Feet will pad down stairs. Chairs will scrape on floors. The dog will be fed. The cat will be fed. Conversations will flow. Then at 7:30 we’ll bundle into the car and off we’ll go to school. My last time for this trip.

But even as I drive home, I’ll still know where they are in the day. When they’re off to after school activities, when they should be picked up. It was much the same this past weekend. They may have thought they were doing their own thing, but I knew where they were. And no matter what I was doing I was tuned in to sounds of unusual quiet or unusual noise. Listening to the odd thing that might signal trouble, listening to the sounds of peace. I think of it as dad mode.

It’s much the same for my three grown children. I mostly know where they are in their days, at work, at home, on the road. Still listening to the odd thing that might signal trouble, listening to the sounds of peace. Doing when doing is required, which mostly involves listening these days to stories of work, of play. Caring for my charges. I enjoy the act of caring. And I enjoyed doing it with my partner, and I enjoyed caring for her as well. And now days, they’re caring for me, the kids, worrying about my health, as I worry about theirs. A mutual aid society, a family. It’s a pleasure. It’s a joy. It’s what gets me through the day.