Driving home in almost dark

comfortably overfed

warmed with red wine

at my husband’s suggestion

which is not my Sunday evening habit

but could be.

I look through windows into houses as we ease by

my mother’s Sunday habit  I’ve acquired

yellow lit

sometime television blue

homes always look warm in twilight

one house still brilliant with Christmas

“Lazy” notes my husband.

I prefer to imagine

an absent family member

a son who soldiers overseas

a sister ill in a distant city

the lights stay on


until the family reunites.