Three years passed by like a beautiful, quick-moving dream as our modest home in Columbus filled with bright crayon drawings, colorful stuffed animals, soft bedtime lullabies, and the sweet sound of little feet running across the wooden floors. Daisy grew into a vibrant, curly-haired toddler with an endless supply of energy and a laugh that could brighten the darkest room.
She called me Mama, and every single time that word escaped her lips, my heart felt completely whole.
Then, on a dreary gray afternoon in early November, an expensive black sedan pulled into my driveway, and I watched through the front window as Samantha stepped out onto the gravel. She looked shockingly thin, her cheeks appeared hollow, and dark circles were visible under her eyes even from a distance.
I stepped out onto the covered front porch and pulled the wooden door completely shut behind me, ensuring that Daisy’s happy laughter remained safely inside the house.
