“I drew our new home!” I kneel down and pull my boy into my arms.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.

It’s absolutely beautiful.” And he looks up at me with his bright fearless open face, the face of a child who does not yet fully understand what happened and, if I have anything to do with it, never will need to, and he asks me the only question that has ever really mattered.

“Are we safe now, Mommy?” And I kiss his forehead, and I tell him the truth, all of it, in words small enough for a five-year-old to hold.

“Yes, my sweet boy.