At night, I cleaned offices.
I learned how to braid hair through repetition and desperation.
Sophie liked her braids tight.
Clara pulled hers loose before lunch.
Lily requested something different almost every morning.
I kept lists because raising triplets without lists was basically an invitation to disaster.
Homework.
School forms.
Doctor appointments.
Favorite soups.
Which daughter needed to talk after a hard day.
Which one needed silence.
Who hated mushrooms.
Who pretended not to hate mushrooms because her sisters liked them.
And eventually, I started writing little cards.
Not recipes for food.
Recipes for difficult days.
One said:
When life feels too heavy, make hot chocolate in the chipped blue mug.
Another:
When you’re sad and don’t know why, hang the laundry outside. Fresh air doesn’t solve things, but it gives sadness somewhere to move.
And another:
When a problem feels enormous, bring it to the kitchen table. Most problems become a little smaller there.
