Tuesday is the best night, because neither of my kids has practice. No driving, no working in dinner around sports and carpools.

So after dinner, Aaron and I lay on the two couches in the living room, reading. Sweet silence, punctuated by the occasional sound of turning pages (truly one of my favorite sounds in the world).

And Aaron says, “Mom, want to hear a great literary device?” He’s reading To Kill A Mockingbird. “Of course,” I say. He reads this great line: “bacon frying, crisp as the twilight air.” Thank you, Harper Lee. What a sentence. Even better: that my 12-year-old recognizes a good sentence when he reads one,  and that he knew I would love to hear it.

No matter that he is counting the pages until he is done with his reading assignment for the night.  To share a literary moment with my pre-teen boy is a gift, and I try to savor the gratitude that rushes into my heart.