She had recently learned to zip her jacket.

She called the moon a night balloon.

Sometimes she woke crying and asked whether I would still be there after breakfast.

We developed small rituals.

Every morning I told her our plan for the day.

Every evening I repeated that she had done nothing to cause the fall, that she was loved, and that grown-ups were responsible for keeping children safe.

Her therapist told me not to measure healing by how quickly she stopped mentioning the event.