Twirling quickly, it is difficult to avoid dizziness, dancing late into the night, to the dropping of the ball and the good cheers with friends. So 2011 began. And here, too, a day later in the fogginess of a new day, the mist rising from the melting snow, a rainbow–is it?–I see when the sun peeks out for just a moment. Rainbows must become more common as life progresses–that much I am sure of. But no, just a glimpse of light now: just the mist and the rain, and the trails melting ice upon wet leaves and pine needles, and the cool of the morning, birds chattering, then quiet. And now back in the familiar, the warm floors, the dark rooms made home again as I switch on a lamp and head upstairs with my tea, sleepy suddenly–or perhaps just yearning for my bed, the soft light, the scent of a pillow and a dreaminess that is only truly possible on days when fog can take over, whether twirling or mist or memories themselves, the long-awaited, the faraway.