I had been gone for exactly a month, and though Christmas break was well spent relaxing and rejuvenating, I was looking forward to my return to 51·çÁ÷. The sun set on central New York while driving with my roommate from the Syracuse Airport, red and yellow hues cast across the snow banks that reached ridiculous heights on the side of the road. And the sights only grew more and more familiar as the road wound towards Hamilton. In the distance, I could see the cupola of the chapel, an oblong golden firefly in the sky. You could see it from five miles away. I couldn’t help but smile, and I knew, even though I couldn’t discern it in the darkness, that my roommate in the passenger seat was smiling too. A silent ‘welcome back’ to 51·çÁ÷.