The Parent of the Kid Whose House Was the Fun House

I never turned a kid away, not for muddy shoes or sticky fingers. My couch was a battlefield of pizza boxes and controller wars, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. I gave them snacks, they gave me noise, and somehow that was enough. Sometimes I still hear them laughing when I'm standing at this sink, staring out the window long after the lights should've gone out.