Gail and the others taught me, patiently and relentlessly, that this was a beautiful and dangerous lie.

You also had to understand what the child had survived.

You had to be prepared for fear that looked like coldness, for anger that was really terror, for distrust that had been earned honestly by adults who came before you, for silences that could last days.

You had to be ready to love a child who could not yet love you back, and to keep loving them without making your love a bill they were expected to pay.

It frightened me, some of what I learned.