It happened, too, in the evenings when we came home to our own house and the children understood that nothing about their lives was being taken away.

They still had our routines.

They still had their rooms, their friends, and the mother who had been there since the beginning.

They were gaining information, choices, and perhaps a relationship—not losing the family they already knew.

On New Year’s Eve we sat in our kitchen in Phoenix, preparing cocoa as we always did.

Brenda stopped by with her daughter.

Celeste brought cinnamon rolls.