If I only find pain, I’ll sit with her as if she’s a lost child. I’ll let her tell me stories of her ill treatment and bad lot. I’ll listen to her fears and ask her about all she’s already conquered.

I’ll watch as she remembers the battles before, the brokenness and how brave she became even though it started as pretend.

I’ll see the light in her eyes—that quick glimmer she can’t help but feel, too. I’ll ask her to play brave and imagine light where there’s only darkness.

I’ll take her hand in mine and we’ll begin again.