The streets on which we drove seemed like old friends, unchanged, and somehow dearer to the heart after the extended absence; Fourth Avenue, whose narrow confines should never have known four lanes of traffic; 53rd St., which boasted one of the few brick surfaces still in use; and 7th Ave.... the corner mail box, the parallel rows of houses, and finally, our gravel driveway.... home. As we neared the end of the avenue, the headlights caught a curious banner of white which appeared to stretch over the entire drive. We approached and stopped beneath a sign which read, "Welcome Home Laurie," professionally lettered in blue and red; it was the work of John Moore, Steve's father. Welcome home?... indeed, yes! The following days seemed a continual welcome; my aunt made some of my favorite rice pudding, neighbors dropped in, friends visited... and to my surprise I received more cards in the mail. I busied myself writing numerous notes expressing my gratitude for all the demonstrations of concern which I had received as well as a note of appreciation which appeared in the church bulletin in reference to all the cards sent to the hospital; it was a job I viewed seriously, because no one had been obligated to do anything for me. Just as I was doused with affection, I might have been completely ignored; thus, I believe it is of the utmost importance to acknowledge another's selfless expenditures, whether their value be measured in hours or coins. To turn one's back upon the kindness and concern of others is a silent, but effective voice which speaks of one's own innate selfishness and dearth of love, for although giving should be a pleasure unto itself, it is a human propensity to seek further pleasure from the fact of the recipient, and if the latter remains expressionless and verbally dense, he denies the giver of his utmost joy. Giving is more than simply the ability to spend money; the ungracious and ill-mannered are often unaware, or perhaps more accurately stated, heedless of this fact. School was already in session when Dad and I returned home from Rochester and although Mom and he went to work regularly, I refrained from going to classes for several more days. I was still quite weak from my operation and related weight loss, and my stamina and endurance were a mockery to their former capabilities, but my underlying strength helped me overcome all of the obstacles which I had hurdled, as it would similarly allow me to master those which lay ahead. I was strong; cancer was my solitary barrier to a clean slate of health.