I stood in the hallway for a long moment.
I’d worried that if Amanda ever returned, the girls would realize I had only been the woman who filled in until their real mother came back.
Instead, I finally understood something Archie would have smiled to hear.
Children don’t keep score the way adults do.
They don’t count sacrifices.
They remember packed lunches.
They don’t count sacrifices.
Braided hair before school.
Someone waiting after nightmares.
A warm mug of hot chocolate.
A kitchen table where problems always seemed smaller by morning.