Seven-year-old Mike proudly showed me every drawing he made before asking if I really wanted to see another.
Four-year-old Ellie asked the kinds of questions adults weren’t expecting.
After our small courthouse wedding, we returned home to four nervous children pretending not to stare at me.
That first evening, Michael stood beside the kitchen sink while the children chased one another through the living room.
« The children need a mother, » he whispered. « I know I’m asking too much. But ever since Laura passed away, nothing has been the same. »
I reached for his hand.
« I love your children already. »
« I know. But they’ll never replace Laura. »
« I don’t want them to, » I said.
« I love your children already. »
Continue on the next page:
