He’d hung it by the window when they first married, all smiles and laughter as he joked about children.
“A big house needs filling with children and a bell to tell them all dinner is ready.”
She’d smiled back. Five years away from doctor’s waiting rooms and grave-faced test results they were happy. They were in love and staying together didn’t seem like a question.
“Just you watch.” she’d told him. “This place won’t feel so big once little ones start comin’, you’ll think there’s nowhere left to escape to.”
She was half right.