Where do I start? I have the entire back half of 2014 to share with you. All its trips, its visits, its everyday questions and answers, its food.

But that takes time and right now I should be writing about wool insulation, not plumbing my brain for you. So instead I’ll jot down a few sentences from Marilynne Robinson’s new book.

Doll would be glad to see her no matter what. Ugly old Doll. Who had said to her, Live. Not once, but every time she washed and mended for her, mothered her as if she were a child someone could want.

That last phrase almost had me crying on Caltrain. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I want to mother every child, I want all children to feel they are wanted and worthy of being wanted. Sometimes friends ask us if we would ever adopt (this is chatter with friends, not an announcement) and I’ll usually say, “Yes.” And Brad says, “Yes.” And the friend will say, “Like, international? Domestic?” And at the same time I say, “All of them, all of the children,” Brad will say, “She wants all of them, all of the children.” We all laugh, because it’s an outrageous truth.

Or maybe it’s because two weeks ago we flew back here after visiting family where I saw my sister and brother-in-law and Brad’s siblings in the midst of their child-raising. There’s nothing romantic or dramatic about picking out leggings for little girls or hunting down the missing Lego piece. And yet, there is. And both our families do it so well, with so much wanting their children. It was beautiful.

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