A chain of disastrous occurrences—several terminal illnesses, a few family deaths, numerous tragic and life-altering events—occurred during a seemingly never-ending Chicago winter. From my windows, stories above the ground, I contemplated going down again, each stair being a step closer to a collision with powerlessness. How long can anyone hide behind the safe clutter of a white window sill? Words from Harper Lee's famous story of a recluse tumbled in my head as I worked inside... I think I'm beginning to understand why Boo Radley's stayed shut up in the house all this time... it's because he wants to stay inside. But even Boo came out.