And now she wanted to put a full one at the very center of her world, out in the open, where anyone could see it, so that everyone would know, so that she herself would never forget, that in her home now there was always, always enough.

A few minutes later, she ran inside, and came back holding a plain white bowl, the very bowl I had found sitting empty in the sink the day I came home, the one caked with dried oatmeal, the one I had meant to throw away until she asked to keep it.

She set it on the patio table, and filled it to the very brim with fresh strawberries, and sat down, and ate them, one by one, in the warm afternoon sun.

No fear.