The radio is off. After so much manic movement and chaos, I relish the silence of my car’s warm interior, the smell of the leather, the faint lavender scent of the dried bunch hanging from my rearview mirror.

Then I’m home, pulling up the long, steep driveway. I stop at the top, waiting for the garage door to open. Home is a two-story red brick Colonial, white Ionic columns framing the wide white French-style front door, white shutters. Box shrubs trimmed in precise squared-off rectangles under the windows on each side, with a profusion of bright, colorful perennials in front of them and lining the ruler-straight, brick-paved walkway to the front porch. A pair of double-width garage doors, white wood with an X of black wrought-iron straps across each. Faux gaslight lampposts stand at the corners of the property, far corner, on either side of the walkway, and on either side of the driveway, flickering their welcome.

McMansion it may be, and very much alike all the rest on our street, but it’s home and I love it. It’s the first and only house Adrian and I bought together and, as far as I’m concerned, the last. Every day, I pull up the driveway, stop here waiting for the garage door to trundle slowly upward, and I stare at my home, and I appreciate it.

I slide my car into its space, shut off the motor, and push open my door. Stand beside my little red convertible and stare at the empty space next to mine where Adrian’s car belongs. Beyond it, occupying a storage bay, is a collection of mountain bikes, kayaks, stand-up paddleboards, bike pumps and spare tires and paddles and a shelf at the back littered with the detritus of life.

It has been a long time since Adrian and I used any of those things over there.

Years, in fact.

I close the door of my car, listen to the engine tick and pop as it cools. I finally summon the motivation to go inside; just as the garage door light flicks off automatically, bathing the garage in darkness. The house is silent, dark. I flick on the kitchen light, a small pool of incandescent yellow, limning the marble counters and stainless-steel appliances with sepia light.

Green numerals on the oven: 12:47.