Amanda walked back into our house after 15 years, smiling as if motherhood had simply waited on a shelf for her. She was the same woman who had abandoned her daughters with me to chase a “better” life. She thought money could buy back that time—until my granddaughters smiled and handed her a gift bag.
Amanda still knocked the same way.
Three quick taps.
A pause.
One more.
I knew that knock before I saw her through the glass.
Amanda still knocked the same way.
My hands stopped around the popcorn bowl.
On the couch, Lily paused the movie.
Grace looked at me first.
Amelia looked at the door.
Triplets teach you that people can share a birthday and still carry different kinds of weather.
