Monday night, Chicago

Its snowing.

The house is asleep and quiet. The lamps light a few rooms with a dim, yellow glow. Dave and I just packed the car. We'll leave at 6:30 tomorrow morning.

I stand in the garage door, feeling the chill of the Midwest. The kind that surrounds you, but never really seeps inside. A woderful cold that leaves you the moment you enter a warm room.

I watch it snow. Big, thick wet flakes - but larger. Small wads of snow falling softly from the sky. Lying peacefully on everything. Leaving a soft blanket on the van that we pack, so we're careful not to brush against it and get our clothes wet. Leaving a white layer on every branch of each small suburban tree. No one drives by. The nnight is lightened by the street lights casting a sepia tone over the scene. Front yards and great sky, filled with snow.

And I don't want to leave.