Emma did not sit through those hearings.

She had school, therapy, and a drawing project she was determined to finish.

Her world needed to be more than the adults’ case.

After one long day, I returned home to find her at the kitchen table.

She was drawing a picture of the oak tree in winter, bare branches stretching across a pale sky.

“Does it look dead?” she asked.

“It looks like it’s waiting for spring.”