Winter had been cold all over the states, even here in California. Snow fell in places we would have never believed. It was the first time, in all my years of being here that Californians actually wore winter clothing. I remember holding a cup of warm cocoa between my palms and, thinking how beautiful the snow was.
Of course my reverie was short lived, on the news I listened to how all the accidents had freeways tied up, how all planes had been grounded at LAX and, how people were stuck on the Grapevine and in the Cajon Pass. I shook my head, I felt bad for them but, I have to admit I was glad to be in my house snuggled warm under my throw, watching their plight.
One story in particular caught my attention, a family in Big Bear had died of noxious fumes from a bar-b-que pit. They'd been trying to keep warm and brought it into the house, then lit it. I felt bad.
Days like this gave me time to think. I thought about the dream that had been my companion for years. It was a constant, when everything else changed, it was always the same.
I was in a park, it was warm, the sun was high and clouds shaped like birds and other heavenly creatures floated across the sky. There were other people in the park and I remember feeling antsy, uncomfortable, waiting for something to happen, but what?