As we pass the empty lot, my five year old asks me what the big, complicated sign says.
"That lot is for sale," I answer. "Someone can buy it and build a store or a house in that space."
"Maybe the homeless people could buy it!" he suggests.
"Well, perhaps..." I begin to answer, not sure where to go with this conversation.
"Yes," he adds, growing more excited about his unfolding plans. "And then they could build a house and get married and have children and be happy."
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Last night, the children were safely tucked into bed and the garden needed water. I snuck out to enjoy the cool evening air and took great pleasure in caring for my thirsty plants. Upon entering the house, I noticed that Davis's light was on and his room was empty. His sisters' door was a ajar. I pushed it open to find Davis sitting in the dark on Zoe's bed. "Mama," he explained, "Zoe was sad, and I knew you were outside, so I just came to sit with her until you came back."
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