The house had fresh paint and a new porch railing.

I parked across the street, not wanting to disturb anyone, and looked at the upstairs windows.

I could almost see myself at twenty-six, pacing the kitchen with a baby against each shoulder, counting formula tins, wondering whether I would ever sleep all night again.

I remembered the first evening all four were home.

Aunt Ruth had lined their bassinets along the wall, and Brenda brought soup in a container that leaked across her passenger seat.

We laughed so hard that Savannah woke up.