Rita stood patiently in front of Lisa as she watched her husband grip his phone over his ear. Over the course of the conversation, Lynn Sr developed a frown. Its fine lines only became more defined the more he spoke. Towards the end, he even tried nodding his head just to keep his voice level.

"Well, thanks for the tip Ms. S," he said tensely, "we'll speak with her."

He sighed as he lowered the phone. Lynn took a moment to close his eyes and slip the device back in his pocket. Once he found his resolve, he pumped his shoulders back.

"Lisa," Lynn said firmly. His arms were crossed. By now, his face had wiped away any goofiness or gentleness he was accustomed to. And he had his wife to back him up, complete with her own disapproving from, "Explain to me what happened?"

"Such a question lacks purpose. I overheard your phone conversation with Ms. Shrinivas, who already explained the story to you."

"Don't talk to your father like that," Rita said sharply, "What you did today was wrong. Do you know why?"

"As someone seeking to further our understanding of the human excretory system, I see no wrongdoing. It's unfortunate that my fecal samples were confiscated."

"Lisa, when kids go into the bathroom, they need personal space," Lynn Sr. said, though he noticed his voice was already softening. Genius or not, Lisa was only four years old. He couldn't be too hard on his little girl, "They need to be by themselves while doing their...y'know," he spun his hand around, "business. And you can't just walk in and bother them like that. It makes other kids uncomfortable and that's not right."

What was meant to be an appropriate pause devolved into distant bawling. It sucked whatever focus there was in the small kitchen, the three heads turning to what appeared to be upstairs.

"I'll go take care of Lily," Rita asserted before slipping out of the room.

Turning back to his second youngest daughter, Lynn recognized the challenge before him. Even after seventeen years of parenting, he still felt awkward working without his partner in crime. Rita knew how to talk to kids, especially girls. She had a natural way of clicking with them, sensing the words necessary to calm them down while teaching them right from wrong. For him, though, it was a struggle to get serious and have a heart-to-heart.

That, of course, never stopped him from trying.

"I'll let you off the hook this time, but you can't keep doing this," he said. Lynn knew her wife would have done the same, "Do you know what you did wrong?"

Lisa sighed as she readjusted her thick glasses.

"I suppose there has been an etiquette infraction in the pursuit of science," she said, reluctant to admit her mistake. But at least she wasn't angry, he thought. When she was younger, Lisa was especially prone to tantrums, "I'll attempt to receive consent from test subjects moving forward."

Lisa had her way with big words. But it was something, right? Lynn took the opportunity to get down on one knee.

"It's great that you're curious, Lisa. Kids your age should want to learn and your Mommy and I like that. We just want you to know that other people can get upset if you get in their personal space. Going in the bathroom like that is invading their personal space and it can get you in big trouble. That's why you need to ask others before you get into some subjects."

He then stretched out his arms.

"Can Daddy give you a hug?" He asked warmly.

Lisa gazed at her father. Her beady eyes were cold (like usual). Lynn, though, wasn't deterred. He gently tapped his chest and grinned. This wasn't going to end without a hug, he told himself.

Eventually, though, Lisa readjusted her glasses and sighed.

"I figure bodily contact is in order," she announced.

She mechanically walked towards him and wrapped her tiny arms around his large belly. It was times like these when Lynn appreciated his soft furry sweater; it made for a nice, cozy embrace for his little girl.

"May I touch your hair?" He asked.

"You may," she said, her voice only hinting at the joy building up inside.

Knowing this wasn't a privilege often granted, Lynn carefully waded his fingers through those unruly brown locks. He was careful not to tug or pull, but Lisa didn't seem to mind. His soft sweater and warm demeanor did the trick.

Once Lisa broke away, she went off without saying a word. Lynn smiled watching his genius go about her discovery, to learn more about this big and beautiful world. And he was content that another fatherly duty had been accomplished. After seventeen years, his aura still worked like a charm.

Driven by his own curiosity bug, Lynn made the trek to the bedroom. His mind was full of anecdotes, details, names, and images. Some of them were bound to get mixed up and he wasn't about to ask his wife, who was hard at work. No, he had to go elsewhere. Despite how strange Lisa's incident was, there had to be something in the past similar to it. Back in their early days of parenting, raising their first five girls was quite the departure from the women they would become. There just had to have been a similar incident somewhere in their past.

And that bedroom was the only source to the truth.

"That's the last of it," Albert declared. Using his burly hands, he broke up the corners of the empty cardboard box. Even with his strongest days behind him, the aging man still popped the box like a grape.

"Thanks Dad. We couldn't have done this without you," Rita said affectionately. Indeed, it was a group effort moving everything in, one package at a time. Questions over where to put the couch, TV, even a vase she and Lynn got as a wedding gift were confronted head on. Albert had his own challenges. It was his first time in his daughter's new home and he was eager to know what living conditions she would be subjected to. As he hauled in heavy boxes, he did his best to absorb the blueprint before him, taking in the path of the floor and yellow wall.

But at last, the chore was done. Albert stood proudly at the newlywed couple before him.

"I still can't believe you settled on this place," he said, jokingly, "how's everyone gonna fit?"

"We told you Dad. It's a starter home," Rita answered. She turned to Lynn and wrapped her arm around his elbow, smiling, "we won't be here forever. Just until we have enough money to get a bigger place."

The three of them peered through the door. Indeed, the House wasn't much: two bedrooms, a bathroom, a closet, and a kitchen blended seamlessly with the den. But that didn't matter to the newlyweds.

"Yes. It'll do," Lynn told himself.

Some of the pages had become like wood, hardened from years of exposure to dust, air, darkness, and the occasional beam of light. After an untold amount of time in the closet, the journal was bound to be in such shape. The stains that had come from weathering were virtually indistinguishable from those wrought from spilt coffee, yet the blue ink still penetrated the age-induced haze. He smiled as he read along, remembering some of the minor incidents cited.

It was only the door swinging open that broke his concentration. He saw his wife standing there, her form slouched over. Her belly expanded outward, pushing to break through some invisible barrier.

"Lily's quite the fighter," she said between gulps of air. After taking some time to recalibrate, her eyes focused on the thin black notebook, "Oh. I see you're taking a trip down memory lane."

"I dunno," he said, gazing down at the page, "I just felt like pulling out this old thing," he then paused. He didn't even notice his wife sitting down beside him.

"I never had the gift of words like you," he said, "I've been more of a feeler."

Rita wrapped an arm around his back, clamping her finger on the opposite shoulder. He smiled as he turned to see his wife's warm face. Those eyes still had their sparkle.

"You're wonderful at writing. You just have a different voice, that's all."

She then looked down at the page.

"Let's see now," she murmured as she found a decent place to start. Despite her husband's modesty, each entry had a clear starting point, demarcated by a line separating but from the previous installment.

"Last night was magical," she read, "We went out to Banger's and Mosh and I flourished my marvelous British wit. It was such a romp that even the fellow diners were absorbed by my festive showmanship. After the meal, the two of us headed back. Someone must have brought the stars from the sky to our dark little room. I must sa-"

"That's enough of that," he clunkily interjected. Lynn's face was beet red and bullets of sweat threatened to slide down his rosy cheeks. Rita chuckled.

"What's the matter?" Rita asked jokingly, "You don't want to relive the magic?"

"We're not twenty-three anymore," Lynn replied, "what if the kids overhear us?"

"Fair point."

Lynn flipped to a different page. The two silently read those youthful words, trying to recapture those complicated years.

Two backs cozied up on the lumpy mattress, trying to seek comfort from the day of nonstop work. Rita curled up, trying to prop her pillow to act as a soft chair of sorts. Lynn, though, saw no point. Even though every muscle in his body reeked with exhaustion, he could not fall asleep. Today was magical, alright.

"So I figure you're taking over as storyteller?" he asked, turning to her.

Rita gripped the fresh blue book in one hand and the pen in the other. That first page was so open, ready for her to breathe life into its white fibers.

"You can get one too, you know. This is for me," she answered.

"I'll look into it."

Several moments of silence passed. Rita held the pen over the page. For someone titled a great storyteller, her excitement kept her from writing. Legacy's unyielding chains practically strapped her hand in midair; once transcribed, the words she chose would last an eternity. The choice had to be perfect.

"August 2, 1998."

Rita briefly stared at the date. It wasn't much, but nothing to complain about. She inhaled. Everything was going to be alright, she told herself. The world wasn't going to do them any wrong and the future beamed through the window, almost turning the night into day. With that new air of confidence, Rita proceeded.

"Hello. My name is Rita Loud and it's nice to meet you, journal."

So this was how it was gonna be. She chuckled. In that moment, it was silly that she was treating the journal as a person. Should she scratch that part out and try again? After all, these pages were meant to lay out the gospel. Then again, it had only been two sentences. Maybe she could experiment. At least then, she could actually get something written down.

"My husband Lynn and I vowed to embark on a grand journey. And I must say, we're off on a daring start! Today, the test came back positive. We have found our baby. Right now, we don't know much. It's like we stepped into a divine portal to meet our creation. The vision is hazy, but that's what makes the journey so exciting. In the months and years to come, Lynn and I will be piecing it together one baby at a time. I'm thrilled."

She then gazed at her husband and smiled.

"And so far, Lynn is too."

It wasn't much, but now that she thought about it, it didn't need to be. If every entry were a novel, she was going to have mountains of paper by the ninth month. Besides, the emotion was already there. The night was peaceful, she was content, her husband at ease, and most of all the baby was present.

Placing the journal by her nightstand, Rita stared at her tummy. It was hard to believe that it would soon balloon into something wonderful. Those golden days were approaching and her job as mother has officially begun.

"Good night," she said internally and her gentle palm patted the belly.

"Twins," Rita said to herself.

"Did you feel even heavier at first?" Lynn asked.

"Well how was I supposed to know? It was my first time."

"Sorry..."

Lynn's voice dropped, immediately catching his wife's attention. Any joy he had brought to his face had vanished. The boldening wrinkles on his face accentuated, lumping together like a compressed mountain range. He wasn't that old yet.

"It's okay, honey," Rita said sadly. She forced out a pathetic chuckle, "I thought it was nice of you to ask. I mean, my mom never told me what childbirth was like."

But both of them knew it was a useless exercise. Indeed, Rita realized her eyes were on the wall. She dreaded the fact that she couldn't even look her husband in the face, to see his saddening expression. Perhaps it was all just pretending.

Who was she kidding?

She was pretending. Rita poured through all her other pregnancies, trying to gauge her sensations for each baby she carried. Despite claiming to be an expert, Rita conceded that it was pointless trying to evaluate her children in such a dry, systematic way. Each of them were unique experiences and trying to boil them down to comparisons wasn't fair. But now here she was, trying to make light of all of this to feel better about herself.

Rita, though, quickly realized the reality. She couldn't act like everything was okay. That familiar, yet overwhelming darkness penetrated her vision, her awareness, and her heart. It didn't take much for her to surrender to those overwhelming storm clouds brewing in her soul.

Rita wished she had gotten a different alarm clock. Maybe one that gave off a fun tune at the appropriate time or at least that was easy to snooze. But no. She had to settle for one that rang a relentless, yet dull buzz. The process of finding that tiny pesky button to silence it was an exercise all on its own. It ensured that she stayed awake from the rush.

Sadly, today was no different. As she rubbed her eyes, she glanced at her similarly groggy husband. Both of them agreed it was too early for this. Either of them would do almost anything just to stay in bed, to sleep the day away, and forget the world around them.

Of course, there was only one exception and it was that which propelled both of them from their cozy paradise. Rita was relieved that the floor was carpet, allowing for a relatively smooth landing. She knew what she needed to do, but that didn't mean the laws of nature were going to make it easy.

During the short walk to the other room, she instinctively pressed a finger against her belly, feeling the ever hardening bulge emerging one day at a time.

"Soon," she murmured as she entered the nursery. As expected, Lori was already awake. She cooed, reaching her feeble arms out for her mama. Rita smiled at the precious sight. Yes, she imagined, mama was coming.

Rita lifted Lori from the crib and cradled her in her arms. Her baby was really something. So soft, impressionable, sweet. Innocent.

Yes. Innocent was the best word to sum Lori up. There was nothing wrong with that, of course. In fact, if everything could go her way, Rita would have preferred her first daughter to stay that way forever. Just her, her parents, and Leni (wherever that silly girl was off at).

Not even a year old yet, Lori still needed her parents for all the essentials. Remembering this, Rita laid her down on the changing table. Diapers were always pesky to deal with, but they were a minor inconvenience (Lori couldn't help what she did in the night).

With that unpleasant business out of the way, Rita carried the baby to the kitchen. As she peered into the cabinet, the emptiness settled in much faster than usual. Why couldn't it be like the other days, Rita asked, where she could easily pretend that extra wall space was filled with spare containers of baby food? Maybe it was because she forget to get that important spare from the store. What a mistake.

Her eyes winced. Unable to bear the sight for long, she snatched the container and slammed the door shut. Luckily, little Lori was undisturbed; that garden of innocence was preserved.

Getting the baby secured, Rita stared at her longingly. From this angle, the high chair looked so large. Lori was plopped front and center, leaving two giant gaps towards each plastic side. It was only then that she was reminded of other empty spaces lurking around. Such voids didn't always need to be seen to be known.

She shook her head. What was she doing wasting time on the past? Lori needed her breakfast. As happy as those youthful eyes were, they weren't going to stay that way if Rita lingered. Without further delay, she scooped up some food and held up the spoon.

"Look at the airplane," Rita said, propping up a weary smile. Her arm mechanically lifted the utensil up and down, competing the infant's eyes to track its trajectory. Lori cheered as it got closer and closer to her open mouth. Such sounds made Rita's smile just a little easier to keep up. Even when she clamped down on the yummy food, Rita could hear muffled giggles.

"Yay," Rita said softly. Her hand froze. After all, Lori was busy eating the food. There was no need to hurry. Nope. The baby could have taken all the time in the world if she wanted to. All Rita needed was assurance that her special, first child was well nourished. Besides, she figured it would be good practice.

One by one, spoonful by spoonful, Rita fed Lori. At several moments, the airplane game fell apart as the baby slapped the spoon away. Luckily, Rita's strong grip kept the plane from leaving the table. She felt the seconds drone by as she cooed Lori into having some more. How was the baby to grow without breakfast? No child under her care was going to be underfed when she could help it. Indeed, Lori did come around eventually to accepting the gooey food. It was another piece of progress, moving in a direction (where exactly?).

But it didn't matter. Once the container was empty, Rita smiled.

"All gone," she cooed quietly. By the end of the meal, Lori was left with a smile. Good. In fact, better than that. Rita couldn't help but walk backwards towards the sink, eyeing her baby all the way there. The smile never subsided the whole way there.

"Don't worry, honey. Mommy will be right there," she said.

Unfortunately, she had to turn away once reaching the sink. After all, this container wasn't gonna wash itself. As she ran the water under it, she stared at the plastic being overwhelmed by the gushing liquid. She wondered what it was like to be at the bottom. All alone, getting crushed from the suffocating pounds of water.

"I'm off to work. I'll see you later, honey."

"Uh...Okay, sweetie," Rita said. Her lips instinctively formed a smile. How shameful, she thought, that it had become so easy after so much practice. Was it normal to be like this?

By the time she finished, her husband was already out the door. Another day at work for him. And another day for her and Lori.

It was time to prop up that smile. Lori was waiting. Taking a breath, Rita stretched her lips and approached the baby. Just in time, too. Lori smiled gleefully as her mommy hoisted her up and hugged her.

Rita looked down at her special creation. Yes, Lori would be loved. She was the most perfect thing she and Lynn had conceived at this point in their lives. And this pit in her tummy? This was just a passing defect.

Soon, Lori would get so much more than this. Indeed, her baby deserved more. All Rita could do in the meantime was care for her, to use every waking moment to assure Lori that everything (no matter how dark) was going to be alright. Whether that was through feeding her the airplane or cradling her. Whether it was carrying her through the day or singing a lullaby to her at night. Somehow, Lori was going to be loved, even if it was from someone as weak as her Mommy.

This was just a passing thing, she told herself.

Right?

"It's okay, honey," Rita said, grinning slightly, "we moved on from that. Remember?"

"I know," he answered solemnly. But his mind was elsewhere. Not even time could have healed this wound. The pain and regret mixed with the violently fluctuating tempo of events. He shuddered as he struggled to find words.

By transmission, Rita too picked up that inner sorrow. Her heart sagged down from the weight. She forced herself to smile, trying to stay supportive.

"Rita," she heard him say. She turned and waited for a response. His mouth was slightly agape as he sipped in some air, "looking back, I sometimes wonder if we made all the right decisions."

Her eyes widened. It was this conversation again. Her heart sunk to that horribly familiar pit while her lips followed suit.

"I...Well..." she said slowly. Lynn looked on. Oh, how she hated that look of his. Those heavy eyes were so capable of guilting, "we got the most important choice right. Le-all Of our children were wonderful additions."

She paused.

"Right?" She asked. Now it was her turn to share her gaze. Both of them realized they needed each other, to hold one another up and tell the other it was okay. Yet that silence grew with each dreadful second. Why wouldn't Lynn answer her question? Was he just waiting for her to offer a response?

Now it was Lynn's turn to feel bad. Why did he head down this path, slashing open old wounds? His eyes fell to his beloved journal. Could these words ever be repeated and these memories relived without veering into this murky moral abyss. Why couldn't they just see a bright, happy vision of their younger selves unfazed by the dark shadows?

Turning back to his wife, she still looked sad. Alas, such calamities were too grave to ever be ignored. It was unfair to their precious child looking down from Heaven. What was Leni thinking right now? Was she sad that neither of her parents could think of her without laughing or smiling? It must be, Lynn thought. And now he had to face his wife and admit that impossibility.

He inhaled, feeling the warm stuffy air slide down his throat, and exhaled. Here it goes.

"Things were different back then honey," he said. It was only after those words left his mouth that he realized his hand was on his wife's shoulder, "we were young and didn't think anything terrible could happen to our perfect family," he sighed, "when the doctor told us, it was too much-"

"Please," Rita said, her choked voice muffled behind her clenched lips, "don't bring up that day."

Nodding his head, Lynn continued.

"After Lori was born, the months felt like an eternity...but they also flew by," he said. By this point, he careened his wife inward, allowing her body to lean against his, "sure we were happy. We were parents to a beautiful little girl, but everything was just so empty. The sadness was so real that...before we knew it, you were pregnant again."

"So is that it?"

Lynn's head shot down to his wife. She, though, was staring at the wall ahead.

"Did we only have Leni because of that awful thing?"

"Of course not!"

"That's what it sounds like."

He was stunned. Mechanically, his eyes jerked to the door. Thankfully it was shut. The odds of his daughter hearing this conversation, slim as they were, terrified him. The last thing he needed was a child feeling unloved.

Next he turned to his distressed wife. What could he say to her? After all, he wasn't the one that was homebound during those tumultuous months. His work was an escape, getting lost on his computer and friendly colleagues. Even years later, the pain he felt when he came home at night was still fresh. It was the type of raw, bitter tinge that ate away at his heart. He would have done anything to make it go away, to have everything go back to what it was before. But at what cost?

The what if's overwhelmed him. What if both the twins survived? How would that have changed their family? What impression did that give off to others?

His chest tightened as he tried once again to conjure up an answer. Was that anything compared to what she felt during the long days at home? Who was he to judge?

"I-I'm...sorry," he said. Trying to support his wife, he ran one of his hands down her back, "I don't know how else to describe it. But there's nothing we can do to change the past. What matters is how we move on and after seventeen years, I think we've been holding up pretty well."

He paused. Rita was still too horrified to shine light on all this. She feared that she wouldn't like the expression she would find on her husband's face. The last she wanted was to start crying, but the images were just as vivid as ever. Those dark and gloomy days never lost their clarity.

"It's too easy to think of how differently things could have turned out," she heard Lynn say, "You could get worked up on anything. If I had chosen to stay in England, if you hadn't become a crossing guard that one summer. We don't think about those what ifs because everything worked out fine," He then took a breath, "when things don't turn out that way, it's easier to think of a future where things are good. And believe me, I would have done anything to bring our little girl into this world."

Lynn paused. At this point, he realized how murky all of this was. One false move and he would have been back to square one. If only he had more time to think all this through, to realize just which words to use. Even now, despite sensing some degree of resolution within himself, he couldn't articulate it. But now, as he rubbed his wife's back, he pressed forward.

"But I also know there was a time when I was studying abroad where I wished I didn't have to go home. Sure it wasn't perfect over there. England has its share of rude people, rancid food, and unpleasant memories," he said. He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his wife's beautiful blonde hair, "but it's not worth it to credit any of those things for why I came back. As much as I loved England, I knew from the day I stepped out of Hearthrow that I wouldn't be staying. None of those little things changed my course."

His eyes cast open and he caught sight of his wife once more. Taking another deep breath, Lynn continued.

"The same can be said about our family. Both of us knew from the start that we wanted a big family. Did things go unexpected? Of course they did. Did we make mistakes?" He then paused. He thought of both Leni and Leni. How unfortunate those names sounded out of context, "Yes...but in the end, those things didn't cause our big family because that's what we always set out for."

Neither of them made a sound for several minutes. Rita slowly looked up at her husband, catching sight of him. He glimpsed at her eyes filling up with tears. He leaned into her, pulling every bit of comfort he could and transmitting it to her. She didn't need to cry, Lynn told himself. Whatever he could do to keep her from descending into sadness, he would do.

No tears did escape, luckily. Slowly, Rita wiped her eyes and eased herself up. Lynn helped lift her body to a sitting position, allowing her to sit on her own.

For another minute, the two looked at each other silently. Was this going to be the end of that discussion? Was all going to be resolved in this moment, with those words? Nothing was clear, but the journal still sat on Lynn's legs.

"Here," he said, "I found something in here that might cheer you up."

"Oh," she said sadly.

The two of them leaned into the pair of old pages and read. As they sat there, Lynn wrapped an arm around Rita's back.

"No Luna! Don't touch those!"

But it was too late. The young one had already grasped the pans unfortunate enough to fall to the ground. Curious by their solid, metallic property, Luna banged them together. Rita winced at the foreboding clatter. The baby's arms, though wouldn't relent.

The two pans pounded repeatedly. Rita knew her mission. Her hand slowly leered in, aiming for anything to grip. As she got closer, her fingers trembled. The poor things threatened to break off from the fear and lack of support.

"Come on," she told herself, "you delivered her. This is nothing!"

Rita breathed and then, with a burst of determination, swiped one of the pans. Chuckling to herself, she placed it on the counter. Now she looked down to see Luna holding one more. This one should be easy. Indeed, with the looming possibility of her hand being mangled up and away, taking the other didn't take that much effort aside from some pulling.

But what she didn't account for was the crying. Even now after four children, Rita still hasn't gotten used to that earpiercing, heartbreaking noise. Her eyes tinged watching her precious creation be torn over the separation. Giving those beloved pans back wasn't an option; it'd be substituting one noise for another. Instead, she scooped up baby Luna and cradled her. Just from their contact, the crying softened. Rita sighed. At least the baby recognized her mommy.

"Mommy! Where's breakfast?"

It was Lori. Of course, it was time to acknowledge the other kids around the overcrowded table. Seeing the other three with scattered crumbs, crayons, and paper wads shocked Rita.

"Yes, of course honey," she said.

She made her way over, patting Luna's back several times. Luckily, it was just the right tender touch to calm the third child. Once sedated, she plopped Luna down on her high chair. Rita briefly examined all four of her daughters together. They were quite the lot.

Luna and Luan were the rambunctious duo, always opting to laugh, play around, and make noise. They moved around so much, Rita often had trouble keeping up. Those two alone took up so much of her time and energy, but she couldn't blame either of them. They were two passionate souls so excited to be alive, to discover all the little nooks and crannies of their small, overcrowded home. They took life with an iron grip, unwilling to relinquish their grasp for even a fleeting moment.

Leni was alive and awake. Her back was pressed up against the chair wall and her hands under the table. But her eyes were...blank. She wasn't sick, of course, but they'd been like that for some time. Plus she'd been having a hard time picking things up with her own hands. When she "held" a fork, it was like the metal just so happened to slide between her fingers. From the looks of it, the instrument would have slid out if the hand leaned even slightly downward. And out of all the sisters, she was the quietest. While that meant few incidents like that with the pan, Rita couldn't help but wonder. Her blank face and her seemingly oblivious outlook worried her.

And then there was Lori, the one who started it all. In many ways, she was the product of experimental parenting, mixed with a lack of experience. Lori was in a work in progress, but Rita wouldn't have loved her any other way. Lori was her angel and seeing her react to the world, how ever she chose to do it, always proved to be a learning experience.

Yes, they were her children. They were Lynn's too.

"Mom!" Lori exclaimed.

Shaking her head, Rita got back on task. She paced to the counter, where most of the food was ready to go. She swiftly lathered butter on several pieces of toast and plopped them on two plates. Quickly thereafter came the eggs and bacon. Perfect. Feeling as if enough time had been wasted, Rita hustled the two plates and rested them before Lori and Leni.

Now it was just the easy part, the baby food. With the two younger children seated, Rita took her time getting to the cabinet. Nowadays, those spaces were crowded. She remembered a time not too long ago when she could see the wood in the back. Alas, now she was lucky if she could swing open the door without being pelted with a loose tupperware container or a random spoon stuffed inside. Such was the reality of parenting, she told herself.

After being greeted by the falling blue plastic lid, Rita grabbed the two baby food containers and slammed the door shut (no need for more rain). As she headed back, Rita noticed Luna tapping her open palms against the high chair's plastic table. The baby's mouth was wide open, exposing her budding teeth. Luna's eyes glimmered with the youthful flame of a kindred spirit. Nearby, Luan raspberried at her big sister's antics.

And Rita just smiled. Whatever serious concept she was contemplating earlier got shifted to the wayside as she got caught up in the moment. This was the reason she became a mother, seeing her creations enjoying life to the best of their ability. This was what she envisioned for herself. If only Lynn were home right now with his camera. But no matter, the memory was vivid enough to last a lifetime.

Both of them chuckled at those fond memories. For the first time that afternoon, both of them remembered how fun that house was.

"And I thought I had the hard job," Lynn said.

The two of them gazed down at the journal some more. Lynn flipped through some more pages and read to himself. Even as he absorbed himself in some precious (if brief) episodes, the corner of his eye caught his wife nuzzling her chin on his shoulder. Occasionally, he heard a gentle sniff or a light clicking of the tongue. Once in a while, he was even blessed with one of her giggles. This was the life, he said to himself.

"Y'know, you're quite the craftsman of words," he heard her say. Lynn smiled as he tried looking at her without moving his head.

"Oh you! You don't know what you're talking about," he said, "why don't you run up to the attic and snatch one of your journals. Then we'll see who the true master is!"

All he heard was more laughter.

"My writing is the only thing you ever wanna talk about. First it's my letters to Principal Huggins, then it's my journals, and before I can even blink you haul out my novel," she said lightly. By this point, she had lifted her head, allowing Lynn to turn towards her, "It's about time we saw things from your point of view. You have quite the vision."

"I dunno about that."

"Come on!"

The two of them gazed at each other. Even after twenty years, the two were still enamored by each other's charming gaze. How could Lynn say no to a face like that?

Turning back to the book, he flipped through some more pages. He scanned through his old handwriting, trying desperately to grasp at those old thoughts and past feelings.

"Y'know, not all of this is rainbows and daisies," he said lightly, "there's some pretty heavy stuff in here."

"What do you think mine is!" Rita chided.

But neither of them thought it was out of malice or self-pity. Just reflection. The kind that was best captured in the middle of coffee stains and between squished dust bunnies.

Another day down the drain. Traffic was slow (of course) and the Brit radio station was playing some imitator's cover (they didn't know real British rock). But at last, he returned to his home. That small, cramped single-floor tube with chipped red paint (and to think this place was only five years old).

Lynn was greeted by the TV's blaring noise. Its bright garish lights irritated his eyes. How could Lori and Luna not get blinded or deafened from this? It wasn't always that loud, right? Sure he headed the Loud family, but even he needed peace and quiet now and then. But no matter.

"As long as my girls are happy" he thought wearily.

Though everything else was little better. He veered into the kitchen, where Junior struggled to remain still in her high chair.

Junior's face was completely smudged with brown baby food. Beside her was Rita hunched over. She held out the spoon again, trying to get it in Junior's mouth. Instead , the utensil went flying onto the table. Lynn could have sworn he heard his wife sigh as she leaned over to pick up the sticky utensil.

"H-how was your day?" he asked.

It took her several seconds to register the question. Only then did she turn around, revealing those subtle bags under her eyes and the pale strands swept to the side and stuck to her forehead. But what really bothered Lynn was his wife's weak, forced smile.

"Fine," she replied with a chuckle, "Junior's a little fussy, but...y'know."

"I see."

He then rounded behind Junior and back around to an adjacent high chair. There she was, Little Luan. By now, her table had been cleaned and her little hands were tapping on the plastic.

"Luan is done, honey," he heard Rita say.

Lynn nodded. Using his leftover energy, he perked up a smile and hoisted Luan from her high chair. He heard some adorable chuckles as he brought the baby into his chest.

"Yes, Daddy's home," he said softly. Just like that, the smile he adorned became etched into his face, unaffected by whatever force he applied to his lips.

He swayed back and forth, sedating the tranquil Luan. As she nestled up into his rested arms, Lynn was relieved. After all, this was the family life. Wake up, go to work, carry home the bread, and get a little reward once the day was done. It made the long hours of typing in code and answering calls about broken alarm systems worth it. That was the trick.

And then there was Leni. She was the fighter, he thought. She sat as straight as a line in the table, her eyes wandering between the cut up hot dogs on her plate and various other points in the room. Her mouth was clamped shut.

"Hey Leni," he said softly.

Nothing. Perhaps she just had food in her mouth (hence why it was shut). Any moment now and she would speak up. But her cheeks were frozen too and nothing about her arms suggested a wave was coming any time soon.

"How was your day honey?" He asked.

Maybe now she would speak up (or act up). Lynn was always determined to get his Leni to express herself in whatever way she could. But for now, she opted not to.

Still smiling, he proceeded forward. He turned to his wife, still trying to get Junior to eat up. But alas, she wouldn't take the mushy bait. Just give her time, he thought. Soon, even Junior would open up and enjoy her mother's bounty. There would be smiles, joy, and it would all be worth it.

For both himself and Rita, Lynn could only hope.

Now what? Lynn turned to Rita only to feel a pang of guilt. How could she remain so calm even as she relived those memories? Maybe she was just keeping her pain inside.

Instinctively, he touched her hand.

"I'm sorry I wasn't always there to help. I think you're the strongest person in the House," he said solemnly.

Rita didn't know what to say. Her mouth opened somewhat as she tried to find the words. Lynn, though, gave her all the time she needed.

"Oh honey," she said softly, her eyes falling to their locked hands, "don't be so hard on yourself. You play your part. To this day, you're still the biggest breadwinner around here. And the kids adore you with your jokes and cooking and just...being a father."

She smiled.

"Promise me you won't change," she said.

Now it was Lynn's turn to be stunned. His eyes widened as his wife's face softened even more. In that moment, she looked exactly like the crossing guard he met all those years ago: those eyes full of youthful optimism and color vibrant enough to withstand any obstacle.

"These last seventeen years have been an adventure," Rita added, "and I'm gonna need my partner in crime for the next seventeen."

Emboldened, Lynn lifted both of their hands up until their fingers were interlocked. Both of them stared at each other with a fierce intensity. Lynn grinned triumphantly.

"Anything for you, mah lady," he said with a British accent.

The two of them chuckled as the journal simply rested on Lynn's knees. Those words, however poorly spoken, sealed the laughter of two kindred spirits trying to make sense of the world.

Rita forgot how heavy the boxes were when they had first moved in. She thought a half decade of dodging hurling toys, holding growing babies, and hauling garbage bags would have made the job easier. She was wrong.

But now she wasn't alone. Lynn and Pop Pop were there to help, of course. Box by box, the three adults hauled the load onto the moving truck. Since each one was sealed, their contents were invisible; however both Lynn and Rita knew what each one contained. The big one that made that noisy rattle had all the baby toys. The one where the bells went off was full of Christmas decorations. The one that was silent was filled with books.

And it wasn't just them on board. The five girls packed themselves into Vanzilla. Seeing those glowing faces through the windows was enough to motivate the three workers, to press forward with their duty. For them.

Soon enough, all the boxes were on board. As Rita and Lynn closed the truck door together, the two of them turned to their former home.

Who would have thought one small place could carry so many smiles and tears, and so much tension and harmony? Within those thin walls laid the floors where everything has been spilt and left around. Although all that residue was mopped up, unseen to the next owners, it was built into its very fibers. The sounds still reverberated for those that search long and hard enough. As are the stains, the commotion, and the wear.

Lynn and Rita hugged each other as they stared once more at their little red house.