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I watch them as they sleep, the three of them sprawled into each other, their limbs of varying sizes intertwined in the backseat of the car.

The oldest rests his head against the window, one arm lays gently across his sister’s lap. The middle one holds her brother’s hand and has lent her other hand to the baby who, in his sleep, has wrapped his tiny dimpled fist around her fingers. Our tiny mess of a car shuttles them through the night.

Their moonlit sighs mingle with the warm breeze that spills in through the open window while the road ahead holds steady in its course, determined to get us home, seemingly unaware of the fact that we are already there.

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