My son hit me last night, and I said nothing. The next morning, I draped my lace tablecloth over the table, prepared a full Southern breakfast, and brought out the fine china as though it were a celebration.

— peacefully so. I slept straight through until morning without interruption. No raised voices. No footsteps pacing the hall.

Just peace.

In the weeks that followed, I took the steps I needed to take. I joined a support group at the local community center. I began working with a counselor who helped me see how fear had quietly continue reading …