So often this holiday I've looked at my children and my chest has ached and my breathing has been difficult I love them so much. Each touches me in their own way. All break my heart with their unique vulnerabilities. Matthew the oldest by nine minutes is thoughtful and just. Peter the middle child is person centric and works hard to get alone with everyone or to vanish when that's not possible. And Micaela the youngest is in pain, her mother's advocate, left alone to the familial carnage and detritus as the boys are off at college. I hope they see me a their safety net, the rock they can swim to, the landing strip in the jungle. To have them bear the destruction of their family and the chaotic aftermath and then feel unsafe for long would be too much. I believe they had a great Christmas and are having a good holiday, and that's a start.
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