At five o’clock that evening, I turned onto Hawthorne Lane expecting nothing more dramatic than reheated leftovers and an argument with my daughter about unfinished homework.

Spring arrived in Pennsylvania with a burst of golden sunlight, green grass, and blooming dogwood trees.

Four months after the auction of Hawthorne Lane, I bought a cozy, two-story craftsman house on Maple Street—a quiet, tree-lined avenue five miles away from my mother's old neighborhood.

The house was built of warm red brick, with a wide front porch, a sunlit kitchen overlooking a massive backyard, and a second-floor bedroom that had a built-in window seat perfect for reading.

On moving day, the sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue.

I stood in the kitchen, unpacking boxes of white porcelain dishes, while soft jazz music played from a Bluetooth speaker sitting on the granite countertop.

The front door opened, and Lucy ran inside, her sneakers thudding happily across the dark hardwood floors. She was carrying a huge cardboard box labeled: LUCY’S ART SUPPLIES.

"Mom!" she called out, her voice bright, clear, and brimming with excitement. "Come look at my room! The painter just finished the walls!"

I set my dish towel down and followed my daughter up the stairs.

Her room was painted a soft, soothing lavender. The built-in window seat was covered in plush yellow cushions, and her drawing easel stood near the window, bathed in golden afternoon sunlight.

She had already set up her desk, arranging her sketchbooks, her colored pencils, and her favorite framed photographs along the shelves.

In the center of her desk sat a single framed photo—taken three weeks earlier at her middle school science fair, where she had won first place for her botany project. In the photo, she was laughing, holding her ribbon high, while I stood beside her with my arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Lucy walked over to the window seat, sat down, and looked out at the green backyard below.

"Mom?" she asked softly, turning her head to look at me.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Do we have to leave this house ever?"

I walked over to her, sat down on the cushion beside her, and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against my side.