I got her dressed for school and did her hair, badly, but I did it.

I helped her with her homework.

When she woke up scared in the night — and she woke up scared a lot, we both did — she’d come find me.

Not a foster parent.

Me.

Because I was the one who made her feel safe.

I was the only thing that stayed the same no matter which house we got sent to.”

I thought of a fourteen-year-old boy being the only fixed point in a small child’s spinning world, and I had to hold on to the edge of the table.