***
One Sunday afternoon, Mom caught him studying the kitchen and rested one hand on the old table.
« A home isn’t built from furniture, » she said. « It’s built from the little things nobody notices until they’re gone. »
Kevin smiled. « I think I’d miss the squeaky tile. »
« See? You’re family now! »
The two of them always got along. Sometimes I joked that they teamed up against me.
« A home isn’t built from furniture. »
Mom would send Kevin home with leftovers, and somehow there was always peach cobbler waiting after he’d fixed something around her house.
Nine years into our marriage, Kevin still noticed things I didn’t realize I’d made into habits.
No matter what happened, my first instinct was always the same.
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