“Hey, Marlow.” “Yeah, lolabug?” “I love you,” Lola whispers as she wraps her arm around Marlow’s waist. I’m rooted to the spot at my daughter’s declaration. I’ve never heard her say those three words to anyone except my parents and me, not even my siblings. Marlow is misty-eyed as she looks down at my daughter with adoration and devotion. We could be a real family someday. The thought doesn’t cause me panic or confusion. In fact, I’m thinking of ways I could make it a reality. “I love you too,”
