It was the place you walked in and saw, first thing, a crayon drawing of a family that had made it, under a giant sun.

I have come to believe that this is what recovery actually is, in the end — not forgetting the bad place, and not avoiding it forever, but reclaiming it.

For a long time I thought healing would mean that Fiona would simply stop being afraid of kitchens, of dark rooms, of closed doors — that the fear would fade and leave a blank where it had been.

But that is not what happened, and I think now it is not what should happen.