Got off nights and went to bed with the room dark and the house quiet, but my body stayed on the same watch it had been on at the plant. I wasn't thinking about anything much. Just lying there noticing every time a truck passed outside, then checking the clock and getting annoyed at the amount of sleep I hadn't had. Finally drifted off and woke up hungry enough to eat supper in the middle of the afternoon. The kids were home by then and wanted me on the floor with them. Took a while to feel properly awake, but pushing a toy truck around was about the right speed. I left the levee run for another day.

My oldest was showing a little friend the generator and repeating what I say about keeping clear while it's running. Same serious face I must make, too. I was proud enough to stand inside the doorway listening instead of interrupting, then felt a little foolish about how much it got to me. They don't know anything about the man I was before all this. To them I'm the dad who checks things and comes home with his lunch box, and I like that more than I can explain without making it a speech. My wife caught me smiling and asked what I'd heard. Told her, and she said yes, they listen even when we think they don't.

A young operator asked why I write down a check even on a quiet night, and I almost gave him the answer about procedure and left it there. Been thinking I should have explained it better. Quiet nights look alike after a few in a row; remembering that you checked something isn't always remembering which night you did it. I learned to trust what I can verify because my confidence used to run ahead of my judgment. That's more personal than I generally get at work, but he wasn't trying to skip anything, he was asking. Next time we have a minute I'll tell him the part that might help, without turning his question into my whole life story.