Saturday night we had a whopper of a thunderstorm. I’d been feeling a bit discouraged that day, watching our teenager fawn over her Daddy, wondering if he was special because she’d never had a father figure, wondering if she just saw me as a another nice nanny in a long succession of female caregivers. But at 4am, when the lightning was flashing rapidly and the thunder shook the house, her feet pounded up the stairs to our bedroom and I sat up as she threw the door open – and she dove into my arms.

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