Our Triplet Sister Passed Away When We Were Only Eleven—On Our 21st Birthday, Mom Handed Us a Box that She Had Left Behind

Seven minutes doesn’t count,” she would snap.

“It does if you were late,” Nora would reply, grinning.

I usually laughed first.

Leila usually threw a pillow.

That was the soundtrack of our childhood before everything changed—laughter, arguments, running footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Mom shouting that if one more crayon ended up on the wall she was going to lose her mind.

Dad, back when he was home more often than not, pretending to be stern while secretly smiling into his coffee.

Whenever Leila and I fought over toys, clothes, the window seat, or any of the countless things  children