My husband pushed me down the stairs, and as I lay shattered at the bottom, my mother-in-law called my father and said, “Come get your worthless daughter and take her back.” Dad gave her only one warning: “If she has so much as a scratch, your family will answer for it.” They laughed at him because they had absolutely no idea who my father truly was.

I still had bills, and my garden hose really was leaking.

But I could breathe in my own home.

I could make plans without asking permission.

My daughter knew she was loved.

I had work that mattered to me and friends I trusted.

“Yes,” I said.

“Not every minute.

But yes.”