I have always liked to get away but not too far away. My home town, the signposts of home, my family, all have pulled me back, as if in my hurry to know I've been away I rush back home again. Parties always drift to the kitchen, and in mother's house so do I. She extended it - doubled its size and added windows. I make tea and sit on the couch at the far wall, the slight chill of the outside air cushioning the glass. Later I walk down to Lake Washington, sitting by the water and looking off the island at the East Side.