Harsh halogen light illuminates the handcrafted table, the decorative pumpkins, your collection of corks that you say looks “artistic” arranged just so. We moved into this trendy apartment in the upper eastside because it was closer to our families. The truth is, though, I feel displaced. In the exactness and cleanliness, I feel as though there is less room for my mess, my confusion, my doubt. But then I turn just so and a flash of remembrance comes to me of the faces gathered around for a messy spaghetti dinner come to me. And I smile and remember that while space is important, it isn’t everything. You are here with us, a seat at the table, illuminating my mess and our hearts. I’m not used to your being reflected through halogen and neat artistic displays. Yet why shouldn’t You be there? In the neat as well as the mess? Here and there, everywhere, even or perhaps especially in the glare of the harsh halogen light.