our Manhattan apartment.
No Central Park view.
No marble entrance.
No private elevator.
The kitchen floor creaked by the refrigerator, and the upstairs bathroom faucet needed extra force.
I loved every inch.
Noah learned to walk while holding the living-room sofa.
Lily’s first word was “light.”
She said it while pointing toward stars I’d painted above their new cribs.
Yes, I’d painted them again.
Mother offered to hire someone.
I refused.
Some things I wanted to do myself.
Cole remained involved in the twins’ lives.
That might disappoint anyone expecting
