At 4 a.m., I got up to knead dough and noticed a thick layer of snow had already piled up outside the window. The kitchen light was warm, and the dough slowly softened in my palms. Suddenly I remembered how my mother used to bake bread for us in winter when I was a child. Now it's my turn. I hope that when my children think of home in the future, they'll remember this warm, comforting smell. No matter how cold it gets outside, there's always a light on at home and hot food waiting for you.