That mattered to me more than it probably sounds.

When you move through nine foster homes, the thing that erodes first isn’t safety or even affection — some of those homes had both.

It’s agency.

You don’t choose the house, the town, the school, the bed, the last name you answer to that year.

You are moved, the way furniture is moved, by people filling out forms, and after enough of it you stop believing your preferences are real things that can affect the world.

I had decided, before I ever met these five children, that whatever else I couldn’t give them, I could give them that back in small daily doses.