The rest of the morning unfolded in its quiet way: school drop-offs, laundry tumbling in the machine, the slow comfort of the radio humming through the house. Some days she wondered how she’d ever gotten so lucky, to have her grandchildren’s laughter filling her home four days a week. It gave her purpose. It gave her peace.
And though Lisa often said, “Mom, you don’t have to do all this,” Helen never believed it was a burden. It was what she knew, what she was good at. Keeping things steady. But Lisa was not steady. She had a way of making life feel like a rush of half-finished thoughts and delayed apologies.