Sometimes she wanted to talk about it.

Sometimes she wanted to play.

Both were part of her way back.

I also began to notice the people who had been quietly present before the disaster.

A friend from college sent audiobooks when reading strained my concentration.

The gardener at the mansion forwarded photographs of the roses I had planted.

A neighbor offered to walk with me on days the dizziness was mild.

None of them promised to restore my old life.