I nearly dialed 911 on the tattooed teenager holding a screaming baby inside an empty 1 AM laundromat. Then his bag tore open, and my stomach sank with utter shame.

called down, “Nana too.”

I climbed the stairs.

Emma was half-asleep, hair spread across her pillow like a little storm cloud.

She reached one hand for Jackson and one for me.

A child can do that.

Love two people at once.

Need more than one heart.

Build a family out of whoever shows up.

I sat on the edge of the bed and took her tiny hand.

Jackson sat on the continue reading …