I Found My Daughter’s Note in Her Wet Backpack After I Picked Her Up From Her Dad’s — and Realized That Night Wasn’t the First
Her appetite was coming back.
Her terrible sense of humor was coming back.
Her infuriating habit of leaving half-empty water glasses on every flat surface in the house was coming back.
And from behind her closed bedroom door, faint and off-key and entirely wonderful, came the sound of her singing along to her music again.
I learned, in those months of watching my daughter slowly return to herself, that being believed is not a small thing you give a child, a nicety, a kindness.
It is closer to oxygen.
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