It was Sunday morning, and I was looking forward to a shower, fresh coffee, and sleeping in my own bed.
Instead, I opened my front door and nearly tripped over a pair of men’s shoes.
Suitcases lined the staircase, and a child’s jacket hung from my grandfather’s coat rack.
Then I looked into the living room.
Fifteen strangers were sleeping on air mattresses across my floor.
One woman had wrapped herself in the blue blanket my late husband had given me for our anniversary.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
Then I called my daughter.
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