So Christmas has come and gone and part of me wants to write a moving and comprehensive composition about the emotions involved in our first post-treatment holiday season. But a bigger part of me is tired. And lazy. And content to leave the bulk of those emotions trapped in their little hiding spot - a spot which has become more reliable as a holding cell over the past few months, allowing me many greatly needed days of peace. But a spot, nonetheless, which still has only tenuous control over the monster it contains and must be closely monitored. Wow - those last two sentences took a turn I wasn't expecting. Anyway, back in sanity-land, as I was saying - the bigger part of me - the lazy part is winning out. So I'm going to go for a minimalist approach and try to sum it all up with one photo and a short description:

 This is Daniel and me on Christmas day. And yes - he is wearing a Santa suit, in case you were wondering. It was a blast watching him experience his first Christmas. It was also exhausting watching him experience his first Christmas. Or rather, it was exhausting watching everyone watch him experience his first Christmas - wishing I had gotten to experience it as a parent rather than an aunt. Feeling relegated to a life of being the next best thing. Worried that I don't matter as much as I would if I brought a child to the mix. Ashamed of myself for worrying about it. And the cycle goes on and on.

So to sum up: Christmas was about 80% fun/cozy/happy/relaxing and only about 20% anxiety/longing/aching/less-than-ness. I'd call that a success.