Your routines. Are as simple as mine. There are the necessities: dinner, teeth brushing, bed. And there are the electives: knitting, singing, making music, watching and reading. Of course, for most of you, there is also a live component. And pet, child, friend or lover asks for your time or at least your presence, for the nightly steps. Dependents. For better or worse they anchor us and give a reason to come home at all.

Daytime is for happiness, nighttime is for loving.

I remember reserving nights for Josh. Which meant we shared a meal and walked through the house talking about what projects to conquer next. Usually the radio would be on but on special nights he would play guitar and I would dance. On the days that I made nighttime plans with friends, I felt sad to know I would not be spending the evening with him. I consoled myself with the knowledge that I would find his warm back under the covers.

Without a human partner, I turn to Bello. I feed him at the same time I feed myself. Afterward we climb the stairs and I head into the studio. I listen to the news and sew for four or five hours. At eleven or so I emerge, squinty eyed and tired. I announce its bedtime and attempt to situate Bello under the covers, on his side of the bed. I brush teeth while reading. I then fill the sink with hot water and sit on the ledge with a folded towel for a pillow, and write in my journal while soaking my feet. With steamy legs I climb into bed and find Bello's warm back waiting.

I could go out, every night and meet new friends, see shows, find stimulus, but I chose to sit on the sink's ledge. Just as you make similar choices. Your routines and choices soothe and quiet the part of me that is confused about what makes a life good. Your lives sound so wonderful, and they sound just like mine.

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