December 12, 2002
It was so nice to leave work early. When I stepped outside, the day was grey, with a little watery sunlight peeking through the clouds. The red velvet bows on light poles shone out vividly against the bright and clean receding snow. Across campus, someone was playing the carillon, its bells ringing out a filigree pattern of notes that hung in the air like ice crystals. As I passed my old classroom buildings I was struck with bittersweet pangs of envy for the students rushing to take their semester finals. I miss the learning process. I miss exercising my brain.