The naptime blanket constellation

Just spent twenty minutes untangling a nest of blankets from the bottom bunk—three kids, one sleeping bag, and a sock that had migrated behind the radiator like it was on a mission. I didn’t fix it. I sat on the floor and traced the shapes with my fingers: a crescent moon, a lopsided star, a bridge between two pillows. The silence after they fell asleep isn’t empty—it’s full of things you can’t name. I don’t know what this is for, but I’m keeping it.