We sit around the table, Game of Life sprawled out in competitive disarray. The babies are blissfully unaware in peaceful dreamland in their cribs, and all is dark and quiet outside. As the game progresses, playful jabs are spoken to heighten the thrill of chasing down victory. Tonight, we are together. We drink our decaf tea and talk as we play, the game a welcome distraction from having to look eye to eye as we quietly share the dark things: betrayals from those we love most, our shame, the wounds that have cut the deepest. So much sadness in our short collective history. Yet, tonight we are known. Evening extends into night as we swim in the stories. We talk. We laugh. We don’t think of the fear that used to haunt us nightly. We don’t think of hunger pangs or self-preservation. We don’t scramble to find a place to lay our head. In this moment, we don’t suffer or cry or lose hope. Tonight, we are safe.