I shuffle, quietly so no one will know I’m awake. I deal ten hands, five cards each. One by one I turn up the hands to see the families. Two remaining cards lie on the pillow. The rule is you can add them later to fix a family if you need to, make it perfect. Tonight, even with extra cards, there are no perfect families. Usually there aren’t. Now I sort them, first by suit, then in order of age, and put them away in their box. I say each one’s name as I pick it up from the blanket, be...
