6/3/08
Riding my bike home from practice. The first warm night of the year. I’m wearing a t-shirt. Memorial Day Monday. Leftover grease charcoal smoke hanging in the trees of the park on California. Dark. Cook outs packed up. Windy. Wind blowing against me in gusts. As I make a left onto Montrose a strong gust hits me in the face and I breathe grit and debris blinking to see. And it’s cold. Completely cold. The temperature drops. I’m enveloped in cold clean air. The wind picks up. My t-shirt is not enough. Screams shouts and shrieks from the girls on the sidewalk. People hurrying from cars and minivans to waiting apartment buildings.
As I walk in the back door into the kitchen, H is there putting dinner away. The bright light reflects blinding off of gleaming white walls and counters. I tell her what just happened with the temperature. A pneumonia front just came through, she replies.