I arrived early for Christmas Eve dinner at my brother’s house and found my son sitting in the garage, eating a gas station sandwich in a folding chair, while inside the other children were having dinner at the table.

him.

That night, at home, he asked me something I’ll never forget:

“Mom… do we smell bad?”

I took a breath before answering.

“No. We smell like work. Like coffee, like long days, like effort. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

He nodded, but I knew it would take time.

We opened gifts together, just the two of us. I tried to keep things normal. But later continue reading …