“Margaret’s helping with the twins. It’s all arranged.”
Joan smiled.
***
Over the following weeks, she returned to dancing, and I finally learned to accept help.
One Friday, we ordered pizza.
I made you help raise your sisters.
Ginny spilled juice. Debbie smeared tomato sauce across her face.
Joan burst out laughing. “Mom, I like our family better this way.”
“Even without my fancy decorations?”
“Especially without them.”
I laughed, looking at my three girls.
For once, I wasn’t trying to make everything perfect. I was simply happy.