We are sitting in candlelight, we are sitting in glow. We are laughing hard until our sides hurt and our eyes water and we are talking deep until our minds spin and our hearts settle. We are eating food wrought with spice and we are taking our time with lattice topped cherry pie. I say something, ask it really, about being a catalyst for change, for community. And he looks back at me and says, "Well, it's in you! You were raised with it. You know it already."

And I remember being young and growing up. I remember a family with ten children living one year in our home and a family with four children living another year in our home. I remember quartered off bedrooms and sharing my space with four girls. I remember sitting nineteen at the kitchen tables and I remember, when my brother died, over seventy eating and sleeping at our home. I remember my parents playing late night scrabble with other couples and I remember sneaking out to the balcony hallway and peering through the spindles at adult conversation in the cathedral living room.

I remember that community is in my blood. I remember that hospitality is in my breath and I remember that my parents done good.

We are not afraid of sharing our stuff or of having none and we are not afraid of giving away or giving in.

Tonight she and I are sitting across from one another, eating salad with homemade croutons and plums. We are talking vision for our new home, the home we're building with food co-op discounts, wildflower bouquets and a lot of 1 John and granola. We are talking about the things we want to grow in as individuals and we are saying that we are making those things corporate goals, small family goals.

A vision for our small community: A mezuzah by the door, a reminder of what has been done and what will be done, a capsule containing the words of life.

What will they say and what will our DNA tell?