That, it turned out, was the longest part of her recovery, far longer than her knees took to heal.

The body mends on its own schedule; the swelling went down, the bruises faded, the therapy did its work, and within a few months she walked without pain.

But the other thing, the deep unlearning of two years of being made to feel like a burden, of being taught that her comfort was an imposition and her presence a favor, that took much longer, and I do not know that it is entirely finished even now.

In those first weeks she would apologize for things, small things, for asking for a second cup of coffee, for wanting the heat turned up, for taking up space in her own home.