One afternoon, almost a year after the first blackout, Maya came home from school carrying a drawing.
It showed two people standing outside a yellow house beneath an enormous sun.
One figure had long dark hair.
The other wore a purple dress.
Above them, she’d written:
MOMMY AND ME. SAFE FOREVER.
I sat down at the kitchen table.
“Did you make this for me?”
She nodded proudly.
“Mrs. Collins told us to draw our favorite place.”
I looked at the yellow house.
“You drew home?”
Maya smiled.
“Yes.”
Then she added something that made my eyes fill with tears.
“Because now when I go to sleep, I know where I’ll wake up.”
I couldn’t speak.
I pulled her into my arms.
She hugged me tightly.
And for the first time, I understood that we were beginning to heal.
Two years later, Maya turned nine.
We celebrated in our backyard with strawberry cupcakes, balloons, and a dozen children from her school.
