On a hot night last night, alone for a rare, brief interval, cold beer beside me, I ironed three or four loads of washing. Oh Saturday night, you have changed. I ironed, and sipped beer and contemplated my days.  I ironed a faded little blue t shirt with a picture of one of Maurice Sendak’s eternally endearing wild things dancing upon it.  Inside the collar was the name of one of my oldest, dearest friends little boy. Hand-me-downs are precious. I smiled and a happy little tear formed and rolled down my cheek, that my son should be wearing clothes pre-loved by Ayesha’s little boy.  We have been friends since we were just children ourselves, and what a sweet little thing it is that…