As of this morning, both of our boys are in Chicago, and Tom and I will be living alone together for the next three weeks. The shift feels notable, and in honor of the novelty we've decided to focus on the holiday pleasures of "hey, we're on a date!"and spend most of the weekend doing stuff together, before reverting to our work lives on Monday.

This will be my last weekend off before the conference begins, so I suppose I should make chore-like use of it as well. I do need to deal with the compost bins: empty them and mix the detritus with last fall's leaves so the stack has time to break down enough to serve as a base layer for a new backyard bed in September. But mostly I think I need to relearn how not to be a caretaking parent, with her antennae always on the alert. As I sit here on the grey couch, in the dim morning light, I am aware of how airy I feel. I am not responsible. And I suspect that Paul is experiencing an equally salutary sensation: I am responsible for myself.