Late afternoon sun poured through the tall living room windows, filling the kitchen with warm yellow light.

Outside, the green treetops of the city park stretched along High Street toward the downtown Columbus skyline.

Paige set the box on the laminate counter and put her hands on her hips.

“That makes forty-two boxes up the stairs,” Paige said.

I pulled two rolls of packing tape off a small box and opened the top flaps.

“Where do you want these iron skillets?” Paige asked.

“In the bottom cabinet to the left of the stove,” I said.