The garage smelled only of clean spackle, fresh paint, and the mild pine cleaner I had scrubbed into the concrete.

I leaned the broom against the workbench and pulled down the heavy overhead garage door until the bottom rubber seal sat flush against the driveway.

I stepped through the laundry room door and walked into the quiet kitchen.

The morning sun came in through the south window, throwing wide golden squares across the yellow tablecloth.

Mariana stood at the laminate counter, pouring fresh orange juice from a plastic pitcher into two short glasses.

Lily sat in her high chair by the breakfast nook, clutching her pink fleece blanket against her chest with her left arm.