I want to remember this day. When Henry is the perfect height to rest his chin on the railing of SuSu's laundry porch. And I can hear his thudding toddler footsteps and squeals of joy as she chases him from room to room upstairs. And George smiles up at me after eating, sly, ducking his chin. And we're all bathed in the gloaming, slanting through the windows. It was a good day, despite the broken dryer that brought us here.