So cold here that even with the heat blasting and all our windows closed, I still feel the need to wrap myself up in flannel and fleece.
The family party last night was terrific. A ton of good food, hanging out with my teenage cousin Emma (who is … basically 45 years old in her soul), laughing, eating. My parents were way at the end of the long table, so I didn’t get to talk with them as much as I would have liked. We will hook up today. I will venture out into the freezing white-skied day and go track them down in Manhattan.
Sometimes I look around at the faces of all the people in my large family, and I feel like I want to cry. I’m not “over” them. I love them. I feel like I love them too much, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It hurts. It’s that kind of thing. I want to hover over them and protect them, and let them know how I feel about them. It’s exhausting. But it is reality, and I definitely can’t change it.
