From my kitchen window, I look down toward Josh's empty house at the bottom of the hill. The sandbox toys have been packed away. The sleds are nowhere in sight. I see only stillness and darkness where I've grown used to seeing life and light. As I stand alone in the empty silence, I realize that Josh's mom has become as dear to me as Josh to Luke. She is sadly absent from the nighttime ritual I sometimes witnessed from my kitchen window as I conclude my own bedtime ritual with Luke. It is as if the night has swallowed all of the evidence of the family who once neighbored us. I pause to process our loss as Luke's astuteness echoes in my head: "Oh, that's bad. That's really bad."