her.

“We discussed this yesterday.”

“It’s temporary.”

Temporary.

The word that would soon become meaningless.

I kept my office.

Fiona complained.

Mom tried to “mediate.”

In the end, the kids shared the larger bedroom, and we squeezed in another twin bed.

Nobody was thrilled.

I told myself that was normal.

Transitions were uncomfortable.

By dinner, half my kitchen continue reading …