I grew up in a house full of women. They taught me I'm always more than just mom.

"I lived with my own mom, who was a single mom, one aunt who was a someday mom, and my grandmother, who we called Nana, who was an always mom. Another pregnant aunt I shared a bed with for a while, an almost mom. There were other moms who visited, other aunts and cousins, and friends and bridge partners of my Nana's coming over for gossip, plus egg salad sandwiches with the crusts cut off."

"My bath time as a child was paired up with women doing their makeup side-by-side in front of the big bathroom. My bedroom was never just my bedroom. No one had that luxury apart from my grandparents, who used up two of the three bedrooms. Even they had to share their space. I napped with my Nana, and I played hide-and-seek in my Grandpa's room."

"And yet there was always time to find yourself a quiet corner. To curl up on the sofa on a winter afternoon with a book in a room where four other people had found their own quiet little nook for the same reason. There was always time to watch it rain in this house of women. Always time to stop and talk, or to fold laundry and watch soap"

The household housed multiple generations of women in a three-bedroom house with one bathroom and an unfinished attic, where spaces and routines were shared. Daily life included a rotating group of mothers, aunts, cousins, friends, and visitors who gathered for small rituals like gossip and egg salad sandwiches. Bath time, naps, and play often overlapped, and even grandparents shared bedrooms. The women prioritized presence and quiet companionship over being busy, creating ample moments to find personal quiet corners, watch the rain, fold laundry, and enjoy communal, unhurried time together.

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