Outside my window there are sparse patches of snow that litter the ground. They are the remnants of past fun times before the particles of last glistening ice melted away. The houses are quiet on the dead end street, and all is silent but for the whispers in the hushed wind and the occasional bird song. As the sky transitions from orange to black, the day fades, and all fall asleep, the creatures of the night are just waking. This cycle continues day by day, in my little corner of the expansive world that we call home; everything blissful as the serenity stays intact.