My mother keeps mementos of our childhood in an old cedar chest—things we drew for her with crayons, the little school projects that we brought home to her, the baby teeth that she snuck out from under our pillows and replaced with quarters from the tooth fairy. This year I'm going to start saving the cards I get from my parents, because I realize someday my parents won't be around to tell me how much they love me on my christmas cards or birthday cards, and I'll wish I'd saved them all. ----- It's been good to be home.