I stood for a moment beside the sink, looking out at the trucks waiting beneath the elevator lights.
For the first time in ten days, the house didn’t feel quite so quiet.
Sunday morning arrived with a cold wind and a sky the color of an old tin bucket.
At ten o’clock, a small hand knocked on my screen door.
“Grandma! Grandma! We came to see your little house!”
Sadie pushed the door open before I could answer. Eli followed behind her, dragging a toy truck by a string.
Michelle came last, carrying a grocery bag.
“We brought cinnamon rolls,” she said. “And the kids insisted on bringing their own toys.”
“Good. I was worried the house might be too clean.”
Sadie ran straight to the window over the sink.
“Grandma! You can see all the trucks!”
“You certainly can.”
“Do they wake you up?”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you scared?”
“No, sweetheart. They’re just trucks.”
