How good it is as you draw the curtains on the working day, bringing it to a close, to look back and know that despite its trials, its frustrations and difficulties, that nothing about the day has damaged you. That the best is still to come. A family dinner in the kitchen, the room still warm from cooking and the light pooling onto the table, just so, that it draws you instinctively towards each other. Tales are told, stories shared, burdens are lifted, problems dissected and there is laughter, perhaps, good food, a sense of gathering, the small frustrations and meagre triumphs swallowed down along with the meal. Plates are cleansed, the mind is too. Then a cuddle from your daughter, a conversation with your son. Sinking down on the sofa and watching the news, a favoured TV programme, reading a chapter of a book. Maybe a game or two. The cleansing rush of a bracing shower. More cuddles, more stories. The feel of clean pyjamas and soft, fresh bedding. Then later, in bed, the body of your partner etched into its usual position, curled up against your back. Shared warmth, the softness of flesh on flesh, sinking into a blissful sleep; the two of you snuggled close, braced together against the dark.