I still remember the sound of neighborhood kids racing past our yard on summer afternoons, my youngest clutching a stuffed rabbit while my older one debated whether to build a fort or start a painting project on the porch. As a mom in my forties with two lively kids aged eight and twelve, our house is a mix of homework spots, impromptu dance sessions, and bedtime stories read under dim lamps. I keep little reminders of those ordinary moments everywhere, like a faded postcard from a neighbor and a jar of crayons that somehow never runs out. Lately, I wanted…