“Faith? Did you mean to leave your door unlocked?”
I push the front door to my sister’s house open, craning my neck for signs of life. And, boy, do I find them. As I step gingerly into the entryway, I’m greeted by my sister’s tasteful decor—complete with toys, scattered shoes, stuffed animals, colored pencils, and various articles of children’s clothing scattered throughout. It’s like a day-care center exploded in here.
“Hello?” I call out again. Down the hall, I can hear my niece Zoey babbling while the baby cries in one of the back rooms.
The TV is on, playing some educational cartoon I don’t recognize at half volume, and I make my way to the kitchen. The path from the door to the granite-topped island is a minefield of stuffed animals and dolls that I would absolutely get in trouble
