The couch is dark brown corduroy with lumpy cushions. There are a few telltale smears of food, maybe yogurt or a banana, and some crumbs here and there. It’s a well-loved piece of furniture.
Margaret Siebers plops herself down in the center and reaches out to baby daughter Frances, who climbs onto her mother’s lap to breastfeed.
“This is where I spent several months,” says Siebers, with a shrug. Her 4-year-old, Violet, runs around nearby. “I could come downstairs and sit on the couch.”
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