Home again, Home again, jiggety jig

We are home.

That night - that very scary night in Atlanta - I turned off the computer and climbed in bed next to Lucy, who was upset and needing a cuddle.

She sat up in that shabby motel room, with the highway roaring by outside and the rain pouring down, and the toilet dripping and the weird cigarette smell permeating everything, and leaned over my face as I lay there and said "Mommy, the best thing about today was being with you."