In the weeks after I brought her home, Chloe began hoarding food.

I would find dry crackers tucked into her pockets, a slice of bread hidden under her pillow, an apple secreted away inside a toy box.

She was five years old, and some part of her, the part that had stood in front of an empty refrigerator alone and afraid, had decided that food was not something she could count on, that it might vanish, that she had better keep some hidden away against the next time no one came.

Her child psychologist gave me guidance that I have been grateful for ever since.