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It was an unusually hot summer. I couldn’t help but notice it felt hotter than in any previous years. Perhaps it was because this was our first year in the new house, and we were still learning its quirks.
Our house was beautiful, undeniably so. It had a modern charm, with huge windows that framed the world outside and brought light into every corner of the home. Even the ceiling in the dining room was made of glass, letting the sky stretch endlessly above us as we enjoyed our meals. On rainy days, I would sit quietly, a cup of tea in hand, and listen to the rhythmic raindrops above. And in the spring, the gentle morning sun would spill into the room, a spoonful of soft golden glow that paired perfectly with the first sip of coffee.
But beauty, as I soon learned, has its challenges.
As summer rolled in, the beauty of our glass house turned into a burden. The sun was merciless, and no matter how much we loved the light, we had to block it out. By mid-June, we found ourselves drawing the curtains closed during the day, hiding from the oppressive heat. We were trapped in an oven. I worried constantly about the electric bill, knowing that the air conditioner was running almost nonstop, and yet, it was still unbearable, especially on the second floor. Without the AC, it was impossible to breathe.
That’s when my husband came up with the idea that we all sleep in the master bedroom. At first, I hesitated. The master bedroom had always been our private space, a retreat where I could recharge. But the kids were thrilled by the idea, and their excitement was infectious. Even though it took me a little time to warm to the idea, the prospect of relief from the heat—and the thought of family bonding—eventually won me over.
The master bedroom was large enough to accommodate two extra mattresses, so my husband pulled out the air mattress we typically used for camping, and soon enough, our bedroom had transformed into a cozy shelter. Every night, we would pile in together, like campers in a cabin. The kids would bring their favorite books, and we had reading time together. Even when I turned off the light, the chatter didn’t stop—whispers, giggles, and occasional bursts of laughter filled the dark, and one by one, we would drift off to sleep.
At first, the kids talked about the little things—what they did during the day, the games they played, and what they were looking forward to. But as the nights went on, the conversations deepened. I started to realize how much I was learning just by listening. At night, with the lights off and the world slowing down, they let their guards down too.
It was in these moments that I could truly see their personalities emerging, their unique ways of thinking, and the way they were beginning to see the world through their own eyes. I learned about their friendships, their worries, and even how they saw me and their father.
They made me laugh, too—so many giggles filled those nights, little jokes only siblings can make and understand. I often found myself smiling into the dark, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for these fleeting moments of childhood, where everything still felt safe and simple.
I could see them blossoming, becoming their own people, and all I had to do was listen. During the day, I was often too busy to notice these changes, but at night, when the world was quiet and we were all together, I could see them more clearly than ever.
What started as a practical solution to escape the heat turned into something much more meaningful. That summer, we made memories we’ll cherish forever. We laughed, shared stories, and bonded in a way that we hadn’t in years. Those nights, spent together in the master bedroom, brought us closer as a family. We found joy in the simplest of things—like reading together, talking in the dark, and just being in each other’s presence.
Sometimes, I think back on the summer and smile. We thought we were just trying to save money on the electric bill, but what we really saved were precious moments, ones that I know I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
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