Page 2 of When Love Takes Root

He laced our fingers together over the blanket.

“Lord, thank You for another day. Thank You for waking us up with breath in our bodies and peace in this house. Thank You for fifteen years of marriage, five beautiful children, and a love that still feels like a blessing. Cover our family today. Guide our steps. Keep us safe. Keep us tender with each other. Keep love in the center of everything we do. In Jesus’ name,” Jamal prayed.

“Amen,” I whispered.

“Amen,” Jamal said.

Right on cue, something thudded upstairs, and then running.

The unmistakable sound of a child in distress over something small enough to end the whole world before school.

“Mama, I can’t find my shoe!”

I closed my eyes and groaned. “There it is,” I said.

“Our daily alarm clock,” Jamal said.

“Your children.”

“Our children,” Jamal clarified.

“Your genetics.”

He laughed and climbed out of bed. “Come on, Mrs. Coleman. Let’s go feed these little people,” Jamal said.

The kitchen came alive the second we stepped into it.

Bacon sizzled in the skillet. Pancake batter spread across the griddle. I moved between counters in fuzzy socks and one of Jamal’s old shirts, checking inventory for Celestial Crowns as breakfast cooked. Owning a salon meant my mind started working before the rest of me did.

“You wake up doing business already,” Jamal said.

“Bills exist.”

“You run a whole establishment.”

“I run a salon,” I said.

“You run peace for half the women in Self Ridge.”

I laughed and pointed my spatula at him as heavy footsteps sounded upstairs.

Kayden shuffled into the kitchen, looking exactly like fifteen-year-old boys were supposed to look on school mornings: half awake, mildly annoyed, and already wearing his father’s face.

“Morning,” Kayden said.

“Good morning,” Jamal corrected.

“Good morning,” Kayden said with a sigh.

Maya followed with her sketchbook tucked beneath one arm and sleep still clinging to her eyes.

“Why is everybody loud this early?” Maya asked.

“Because the sun came up,” Jamal said.

“That doesn’t require all this talking,” Maya retorted.

“Mama, I can’t find my other shoe,” Zuri said.