“Silly me. I was washing dishes this morning and forgot to put my rings back on.”

“I am always telling you that, Annie. That’s just another reason women don’t belong in the kitchen.”

My brother saved the day. Henry produced our mother’s wedding rings, which I barely recognized myself. “Here they are.” Henry handed them to me. I tried to put them on my left hand, and they were too tight.

“I must be getting plump with all the good food you fix me. I’m going to try these on my right hand,” I said and put them on more comfortably, and then I kissed my daddy’s cheek.

“Well, honey, you’ve been wearing them on your right hand for as long as I’ve known you,” Daddy said, and Henry nodded in remembrance. Griffin smiled and patted me on the back, recognizing that memories that were not a part of you require acceptance too.

Over the next weeks, the three of us began packing. We took my mother’s clothes that my father had never dealt with and most of his clothes to Goodwill. Because they were all about the same size, Henry and Griffin each selected a sentimental sweater. The furniture was divided into three stacks: a stack for Henry, a stack for Griffin, and then another stack to be sold or consigned. They each agreed that if and when I gave up the vagabond lifestyle I was living, they would share the furniture with me. These were hard days. Emotional ones. But they were made considerably easier because we had each other. All the while, countless buyers came to see the house. The first week went by so quickly. Griffin had agreed to sleep at the house because without Daddy and his big presence, it got a little creepy at night.

Daddy adjusted to his new environment fairly easily. I knew that was a gift itself. I wondered if he would ever remember he had a daughter named Bailey or if I would just have to be content knowing he had his wife back. By the following Friday, everything was done. All that was left in the house was the big sofa and the bed I slept in.

Griffin and I were going to change and go to VERT to open up and have dinner before I left tomorrow. I was excited to return to my own identity. It was midafternoon, and Griffin and I were in the kitchen packing up the final cookware when there was a knock on the door.

When I opened the front door, a young couple with two small children stood before me. When they saw me, they turned to one another, and the man said to the woman, “I told you, honey, this is not a good idea. Excuse us. We have not contacted the realtor or anything.” The man spoke almost apologetically.

“Do you want to see my dad’s house?” I called to Griffin, “Can you take the children out to the backyard so they can run around?”