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I am writing from the tiny airport in Buffalo, N.Y., where daughter Stella and I have a seven-hour layover. That is long enough to get an Uber to Niagara Falls, and the mother, teacher, and adventurer in me is so inclined, but overruled by the fact we both already have been there, and it is spitting snow outside. So we have found a cozy nook to wherein to read and write, watch people, and pet dogs if they come by.

I am thinking of the serendipity it is that my column falls on Christmas Day.

All the Advent ponderings I've been doing came into relief for me as I spent the last few days in New York City with my daughters. Readers may remember Adelaide, Stella, and I did this last year as a post-divorce gift to ourselves. We had so much fun that the adults, Brooklin and Grace, wanted in on the action, so we started planning early to make it their Christmas present this year.

The use of accumulated airline miles means we are all flying from and through different airports at different times and with varying degrees of hilarity. Like this long sojourn at the Starbucks-less, Chik-fil-A-less, one-terminal Buffalo airstrip. Adelaide and Brooky took a train to White Plains to catch their plane, and Grace is routed through Detroit.

We stayed in a funny, clean and safe European style hostel hotel. I was stopped in security on the way in and out of NYC due to a giant sack of Hothands in my carry-on bag. We didn't use many in New York's unseasonably less-than-freezing weather. Those will go in Harper's stocking on Christmas Eve.

It would be hard to overstate the hope, peace, joy, and love I find in the presence of my children.........

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