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She babbles on about the new fence her neighbor is putting up and how the town is trying to move next year’s carnival to the park. None of it matters to me, but these are the things that make up my mother’s life—and she’s happy. So I listen, thankful I still have her in my life to drive me crazy about things like vitamins and let my gaze travel across the kitchen and living room.

My luggage is open in the middle of the floor, and half of the contents are spread around the room like the suitcase got sick and vomited my clothes and toiletries all over the place. A load of clean laundry that I started folding but never finished is scattered across one end of the couch and chair. When I gave up on the laundry, I started cleaning the kitchen. Naturally, it’s messier than it was when I got home, too.

The shit I do to keep myself busy.

“Carmen and I are going over to start cleaning out Grandma’s garage tomorrow,” Mom says, pulling me back into the conversation. “We’ve put it off for far too long. We were going to do it when Kat comes home for a couple of weeks next month, but the weather is so nice now that we said to heck with it. We’ll just get it done.”

“I love the can-do spirit.”

“I’m sure it’ll be more of a boo-hoo spirit once we start,” she says, laughing. “But I try to stay positive. I mean, it’s really a privilege to be able to sit with my sister and do these things for our mother.”

“I’ll never know that feeling because I don’t have a sister.”

“Nope. You’ll be doing it all alone. Maybe Kat will help you.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Poppy!”

I roll my eyes, pushing off the counter. “Sorry. That was a little harsh. But no. Kat will not be helping me do anything.”

“What’s wrong with Kat?” Mom asks. “I thought you two got along.”

There’s nothing inherently wrong with Kat. She’s fine. But she smells like pickles, talks constantly about politics, and you can’t have music or the television on in the background because it’s too distracting for the conversation, job, or joy at hand.

I grin. “Okay. Would you want to be locked in a hot garage with Kat for days on end?”

“Well, no.”

“I have nothing more, Your Honor. I rest my case.” The doorbell echoes through the house. “Mom, Layla and Sunny are here, and I haven’t had baby snuggles in days. I need to go. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. Tell Layla that I said hi and give her the vitamin regimen.”

I will not. “Okay. I love you.”

“Love you more. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I shove my phone in my pocket and head to the door. Sun streams inside, filling the entryway with bright beams when I pull it open.

“Hey,” I say softly, stepping to the side so Layla and a sleeping Sunny can enter.

“She just fell asleep.”

I pout. “I wanted to play and bond with her … and make sure that she knows that I’m her favorite person.”

Layla shakes her head, amused by me. “Where can I lay her down? She could go on the floor since we’ll be right here if she wakes up.”

I close the door, then quickly make a nest on the living room floor with a couple of blankets. As Layla places her daughter in the middle of the square, I kneel to get a better look at her.

Sunny’s little chubby fingers are the cutest. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat outside, looking like she dusted on a little blush before she left the house. A little pink bow gathers a lock of blond hair straight up on the top of her head, and my heart squeezes with how much I love this little girl.

“My God, she just gets prettier every time I see her.” I gently touch the top of her foot. “Don’t worry,” I whisper loud enough for Layla to hear. “I’ll keep my eye on this hair situation and make sure it’s stopped before it gets embarrassing. Your godmother has your back, girlie.”

Layla laughs, sitting in a chair by the window—the one without laundry stacked on it. “Godmother duties don’t extend to fashion. You’re just supposed to guide her spiritually.”

“Trust me. Her spirit will be broken if you let anyone see her with hair like that for much longer.”