What a week it's been. Three of us - one after another - have been under the weather in the worst way. I hope the fourth person in our household dodges the bullet. Yesterday when Cal was home, sleeping and reading in my bed he idly wondered if others have a bed as special as this one; said that he couldn't imagine one nicer. We must be really lucky to have it, said he. Whenever I remember my grandmother Louise, more often than not I also think of the swivel chair that was in her bedroom, and the back door with its sunbeam-shaped windows. I wonder what pieces of home they'll carry with them throughout their life.