I Came Home From a Night Shift to Find My Daughter Alone on the Cold Kitchen Floor — What I Did Next Protected All Three of My Girls
My daughter did not run from the rooms where she was hurt.
She walked back into them, with her crayons and her puppy and her sisters and her mother, and she took them back.
That is not the absence of what was done to her.
It is her victory over it.
And it is written, in unsteady six-year-old letters, at the top of a drawing on our refrigerator, in the very room where the worst of it happened: OUR REAL HOME.
Chapter 20 — The Architecture of Light
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