Kathryn Kinnish slumped at her granite breakfast counter and cradled her head in her hands. Everything was falling apart. Bay, beautiful Bay, her not-daughter refused to come home, Daphne her almost-daughter was looking for love in anyone , in anyone who would give it, Toby her son was going (rushing) to be married and he was changing into a stranger, and John the husband she'd loved and adored, followed and protected was pulling away. He was temperamental and volatile and gone. He didn't listen the way he used to, he didn't ask or consider how she felt or what she thought. The family she had built her life around was falling apart, and she didn't know how to fix it.
For some reason one of bay's favorite games as a child popped into her head, she and Bay (her Bay) would hold hands and spin In a little circle and chant "London Bridge is falling down" and every time Bay would go limp at the end of the song and Kathryn would pull her up into a great big hug and tell her "mommy will always be there to catch you when you fall." Except she hadn't been. She had let Bay fall just when Bay had needed her the most. And now the rest were following, one by one, like some kind of morbid dominos. And she didn't know how to pick them back up, put them back together. She didn't know how to fix it.
All she wanted was her little girl back, her beautiful, artistic, insightful, tender-hearted baby Bay. She wanted her son back, the one who'd annoy his sister to the end of the earth, who played loud music, , who was genuine even if he drank and gambled, she wanted her Toby back. As much as she loved Daphne and was learning to enjoy Regina's company Kathryn couldn't help but feel like they had ruined everything. They came into her warm home with a chip on their shoulders and pulled the support out from everything Kathryn had spent a lifetime building.
"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down my fair lady." And Kathryn didn't think there would be any patching it up again, not this time.