I carried boxes marked BOOKS, KITCHEN, and BABY CLOTHES while Maya arranged a tiny row of potted herbs beside the kitchen window.

Liam, old enough to watch everything with fierce curiosity, sat on a blanket and tried to grab the packing tape.

The first night we ate takeout on the floor because the dining table hadn’t arrived.

Maya looked around at the half-open boxes and said, “I think I love it already.”
I did too.

Over the following weeks, neighbors brought cookies, introduced themselves, and offered practical help without prying into our history.

A retired teacher across the street recommended a nearby park.