It started with one puzzle.

Just something simple to do at night instead of everyone disappearing into different corners of the house.

Now we’re devouring them.

Every night the table fills up with pieces and people.

Someone always claims the edge pieces like it’s a professional sport.

Someone else insists the sky pieces all look the same and dramatically gives up halfway through.

And somehow we always finish them together.

We started doing it in honor of Nanny.

She loved puzzles.

The quiet focus. The way small pieces slowly turn into something bigger.

It feels like one of those small traditions that sneaks up on you.

One night becomes two.

Two becomes a week.

And before you know it, the kids are asking which puzzle we’re doing tonight.

There’s something comforting about it.

No phones.

No rushing.

Just everyone leaning over the table trying to figure out where one tiny piece belongs.

It reminds me that families aren’t built in big dramatic moments.

They’re built in quiet ones.

One piece at a time.