It is. I hope.

It's raining. I hope the basement doesn't flood. It's quiet. I hope the baby doesn't wake just yet.

It's slightly warm, as in the way a cup of afternoon coffee leaves you just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. I hope I'm not addicted to caffeine. It's Tuesday. I hope the rest of this week goes quickly.

It's playtime and storytime and music time in his new room. I hope I never forget this moment, right here. It's 9pm. I hope B doesn't hate me for crawling into bed right now.

It's different, these days and nights; this time in life. I hope that I will look back as an old lady and nod, thinking,
yes, those were the days.