Woven through a dreary day are streaks of lacy light. Winter is here no doubt about it. Too much inside time, not enough outside. One day every week it doesn’t matter. One day to clean and cook, one day to forget about what happens outside our door. One day to concentrate on preparation. Contemplating the onset of darkness offers rays of light. I work tirelessly. I’m no balabusta, but the place must be clean, the meals must be cooked, think of the light. Minutes away, is everything done? . . . the crescendo peaks, the light is here. Ahhhhh… finally Shabbos.