We come into it unknowing, more providence than planned. We're helpless at first in its shadow, merely sensing its significance as it moves over and around us, our understanding of it evolving as does the landscape, shaped at times by storms we don't comprehend but pray will never return, by sunlight we can't explain but wish will never end. We grow in its margins, between efforts to escape its shadow and the yearning to return to its light, until such time that we create our own version of it, and learn for ourselves that while the shadows of it are finite, the light of it lasts forever. The words 'family' and 'home' are not synonymous. Home is ever-elusive, more a sense of something lost or left behind yet never quite the same upon our return. Family is never-ending, it's those with whom we will always belong, with whom we weather storms and bask in sun.