In the shelter of each other

This old book I pick up from the pile of old books because of its title. In the Shelter of Each Other. Rebuilding our families. I remember that time when my daddy carried me upstairs from the coach. I had fallen asleep reading a book. My daddy, dead now since Rowan was a newborn, some 15 years. He gave me shelter. No doubt. It's been a long time out in the sun and rain and I long for that kind of shelter. Unyielding. Strong to my weak, warm to my cold, clear to my fuzzy. Don't we all want that? Daddies and shelter.