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My daughter had not returned. It was late, so I stepped out the front door to watch and wait for her return. I spied her as she ambled down the street, reluctant to return home, it seemed, by her pace. I ran up the street to meet her. She flinched, unwilling to let me gather her into my arms, and truth be told, I flinched, too. She’d gone where she wasn’t supposed to and did what she’d known not to do.

I have always suffered from severe anxiety. As a child, I would lose sleep over what others would think were insignificant details from the day. A questionable comment by an acquaintance or a difficult assignment in the days to come never failed to rob me of a good night’s rest.