Every Christmas my brother sends me photos of the family partying around their Westchester holiday banquet table. I cover my computer with a blanket while I find the delete button. "Don't they get it?" I ask my husband. "They are in more pain than you," he reminds me. "They are still trying for 'the prefect family.'" "Ouch," I say. "I'm the unlucky lucky one, the third daughter just like in the folktales. I ditched the charade and dove after survival. At least I still have most of my body parts," I say laughing. But the damage is lifelong and haunts me like rocks surfacing in the garden every spring.
"Demand your treasure, right beside every tragedy is a gift, You just have to listen and look deeply." He said.
How true.
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