I had imagined healing as a dramatic moment: a confession, a hug, a sudden end to fear.

Instead it consisted of ordinary decisions.

I asked before turning off lights.

I told Piper where I was going, even when I was only stepping into the kitchen.

I kept meals at regular times.

I didn’t correct her when she wanted to sleep wearing her shoes.

One day she asked why some grown-ups hurt children.

I thought carefully before answering.