The snow appears outside the glass doors without warning. Where does it come from? Undoubtedly from the west. All weather comes from the west, moves east, disappears on the way to Europe over the Atlantic. Sometimes weather comes from the north or the south but not often. The west brings us cold wind, warm breezes, rain, and snow. This particular one is unexpected. And certainly unwelcome.
I notice the sun on my blue tablecloth, the half-empty bottle of red wine. I notice the radio speaking to me about news. Later, the fog rolls in, enveloping the skyscrapers in a white mist. I see them from my perch atop the house, in my attic where I write stories.
But today the sun shines daringly, elbowing itself from between clouds, like saying "let me out. Let me shine. These people need warmth and brilliance. They've had a long, cold, dark winter." Sometimes the clouds oblige. And we are joyous with light and heat. We thank them, go on with our daily lives, hoping they will stay away for a long time, hoping they will allow the sun to reign over us for a long time, a very long time yet.
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