If you are from a large family that suffered from a tumultuous, alcoholic background, you may understand this blog. Going home for Christmas can be a little tricky and volatile at times. Amid all the beauty of fresh, sugar-white snow; the crisp, sweet smell of the decorated tree; the lovely faces of your nieces, nephews, children, parents, etc., there is a sort of shadowy sadness that tugs at your heart. You have to navigate slowly and carefully around each other. You have to be tender to those who know you the best, yet at times seem to be a million degrees separated from you.
Yet I have to be grateful. I have the most adaptable family I know. We are so canny at adaptation that we are like chameleons. The only thing I have not figured out yet, is whether this is a good thing, or a bad thing. All I know is that chameleons survive. And they don't have to work too hard at it either.