Libby and I spent yesterday afternoon making Christmas cookies while the boys were out. Baking with my daughter has improved in recent years. When she was small, she loved to help in the kitchen, but the help was of a less helpful. In fact, if I leave the room, she will continue on, reading the recipe. Today, we plan to wrap everything up in bakery boxes and make deliveries to the neighbors.

Seeing him strapped to the backboard, neck collar on and blood covering his face and my failed efforts at a smile instead of tears, I knew in an instant that yes, I did love him, just as much as I loved my biological sons. The thought of him injured when I was supposed to protect him, the thought of how close he came to death and the thought of him not being. In her file I also found the.

A Childhood, A Family.