Our exchange student came bearing gifts. There were buttery cookies in a decorative tin, and place mats with French icons. His mother was clever, and somehow knew that Ben would enjoy a 3-D puzzle of Notre-Dame. How could she have surmised that he identifies with the hunchback? Ben built it, and it sits on the table by his joke books. It was tricky, but all seventy five pieces fit together. The real cathedral took almost two hundred years to complete, but Ben finished his in an afternoon. He feels good just to look at it. There is no rush to take it apart. 

Ten years ago by what feels like a miraculous series of events, I went to Paris with five of my children. Who does that? I say "with", although each of us traveled on different planes, on a variety of days. But somehow we found each other without phones that work internationally. We ate warm crepes and soft cheeses, and fed the pigeons by the Seine. We wandered the exhibits of the Louvre, and enjoyed ice cream cones in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.  

Those five siblings live in as many different cities, in four states. All except Mercy will gather next week, to celebrate the youngest one's graduation from Yale Business School. In a few weeks she will start an excellent job in yet another state.

Sometimes having adult children feels like the pieces of our family are sprawled all over the map. There was a time when we fit in one car, well, who am I kidding, we never did, and slept under the same roof. But for three hundred and fifty eight days a year they scatter. I love this picture of us, all rumpled from travel. It feels good to look at it.