They Were About to Split Up Five Kids Under Seven. The One Man Willing to Take All Five Knew Exactly What That Does to a Child

I’m a woodworker by trade.

The largest room in my house is my workshop — good light, high ceiling, the smell of cut oak and sawdust that has been the smell of my whole adult life.

For four days straight I barely slept.

I cleared the shop, sealed the floor, ran heat to it, and I built beds.

Custom bunks in solid oak, sanded smooth as river stone, with safety rails a small body couldn’t roll past in the night.

I left the last coat of finish undone on purpose, because I wanted them to choose their own colors — I wanted there to be a decision in that room that belonged to each of them, something in the world that went the way they said.