I like waking up with her curled into my side—her small body pressed to mine as if even in sleep, she subconsciously sought my presence. Or how she climbs onto my lap when we sit down to watch TV in the evenings and rests her head on my shoulder. She usually falls asleep after ten minutes, but I stay on the couch for hours, and only when it’s well into the night do I carry her to bed. It feeds whatever longing that’s awoken inside me, the inner need to keep her engulfed in my arms all the time, to know she’s safe where no one can ever hurt her again. She’s been staying with me for more than
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