Children raised in that particular chill know, always, exactly how cold it is, and spend their whole childhood standing a little closer to whatever warmth they can find.

Tommy stood close to me.

I was his warmth, and he was mine, the two of us huddled together against a family that valued him for nothing and valued me only for what I could do, and if there is one thing I will thank that terrible night for, it is this: it ended the pretense.

It let me stop dragging my son to the holidays of people who looked at him and saw a disappointment.

It let me take him out into the air.