drew barry more knows how to slay dragons

After her dream family fell apart, the actress turned talk show host went 'through the fire' to find happines again

- wendy naugle

Stepping offthe elevator in front of Drew Barrymore’s New York City apartment two weeks before Christmas, I find the door open; no one is in the living room. “Hello?” I holler, looking at the neon sign on the wall that reads “timing is everything.” It is 8:30 in the morning. “Oh, hi!” Barrymore pops out, hugs me and invites me to follow her. “I’m just washing my face,” she says. Suddenly I’m in her bedroom watching as she cleanses and moisturizes; she dabs on some lip balm with her finger, then absentmindedly rubs the remnants across the tattoo on her left forearm that says “BREATHE.”

Her kids are gone, out the door to school on time. “If I nail that part of the day or if something’s about to drop and I catch it, I’m like, ‘It’s going to be a good day,’” she says.

We move to the living room, where the Christmas tree is beautifully lit. Books line the walls—not just one wall, but wrapping around every corner. (Barrymore, 47, has read them all, she confirms later.) As I settle into one of the comfy couches, she mists one of her plants, disappears and comes back with a candle from her Beautiful line that she gifts me. She has taken care of her kids, the plant, me. Only then does she relax, sitting cross-legged in her bare feet on the couch.