My pregnant daughter-in-law told my son she needed “peace and quiet” and that I had to move out of the four-bedroom house my late husband and I had paid off years ago.

The thermostat glowed at seventy-two degrees.

I smiled.

In the kitchen, I took the padlock off the pantry cabinet and threw it in the trash.

I made a pot of my expensive coffee.

Then I opened the windows and let the spring air move through the house.

I sat at my kitchen table in complete silence.

It didn’t feel lonely.

It felt like home again.

Six months passed.

The baby was born healthy.

My granddaughter was beautiful, and I loved her immediately.

I visited David and Harper occasionally, but I