At the risk of being Twitteresque and tremendously tedious, I have to share this moment with you. Close your eyes and imagine the warmest thing you can: your father's hand on your head before bed, a cup of tea wrapped by your own fingers, your feet in a basin of steaming water, a baby curled up on your chest, wool blankets wrapped about your shoulders. . .and then you will know how this one blast of sunlight, in the middle of endless days of grey snow, feels right now, flooding over my desk, lighting up the geranium leaf. Blessed shadows.

Also, the gutteral screaming of a two year old, announcing moment is over and naptime is imminent.

Twice-Annual First-Night-of-Exams-Open-House

Over thirty students packed into our warm kitchen and scattered throughout the house. One enormous pot of chili, consumed. Countless pots of chai, sipped and gulped. Double batch of cornbread, slightly overbaked, almost completely eaten. Texas sheet cake: crumbs washed away down the drain. Two students headbanged in the living-room. Everywhere, laughter. My parents arrived, squeezed into the hallway to collect their chili, and then fled upstairs, where they watched a movie with the girls, who eventually trailed upstairs. Nine-thirty: house cleaned,vaccuumed, dishes washed, kitchen mopped. Ten o'clock: bottle of wine, paltry leftovers, Mom, Dad, Martin and I slumped around the kitchen table, enjoying quiet conversation and an empty house. Will we do it again? Gladly we will, in another six months.