Dusk driving in New Jersey suburbia and the smell of lilac as we cruise down a quiet street. The scent blows through the car and is gone in an instant, but it is enough to turn our heads to that unmistakable sweetness of the lavender flower and a springtime expectation. I know it immediately, and though I cannot see the trees clearly in the very last light of day, I know it's out there, somewhere in that front yard we just passed. The first summery day of the year provided the opportunity to drive around with the windows down, the sunroof open, the music loud, our cares gone. It's like back in school days, when the warm weather would come at a price -- papers, exams, finals -- and although there is work to be done, research and studying to delve into, there's always time for dinner, some ice cream, a drive in the warm air along the shore or out in the farmlands. For a few hours, it's that wonderful feeling of living in the moment, living now and not caring about anything else, of thinking only about the people you're with and the one or two you wish were there. There's something familiar about it, yet something exciting and new, as if it's nostalgia in the present.