It is december and yet 82 degrees outside; the weather looks mysteriously seductive as a handsome stranger who has just turned into a passionate lover. There are no heavy jackets and gloves; the sun is playful filling up the buckets of backyards, playgrounds and sun rooms. The clothesline in a neighboring yard flutters the garments of a newborn like colorful butterflies dancing and kicking the ball of winter into a vast tunnel of luke warm light.
I hear the kids on the trampoline; the sound of a speeding convertible and young girls giggling and walking idly on the pavement. I decide to walk and pick up my son from school. On my way, I notice small shoots of grass that have popped up, upright yet confused by a strange order of things. Life is always eager to spring even when it is not supposed to; I nod my head and move on.
With a splendid afternoon slipping by slowly, I decide to pick up a book and sit outside. The warm wind has slowed down with a soft chill and a few clouds have transformed the spectrum into a dull shade; the day is still charming for a date. Everything looks still but I sense a strong, quiet and swift movement. A moment later, few, thick drops of water land on my yard as a message.
I look up – the sun has suddenly vanished without waving a goodbye; the sky is now a medley of sinister clouds – grey with overgrown bellies; ready to feed on every ounce of warmth. The voices outside have disappeared, the clothesline is empty and the bright, young saplings are shaking – wondering on their shortest life span – hoping for the miracle to come back and save them.
I close my book and slightly shiver as the mercury falls. In no time, the rainfall begins with a cold whip of wind cooling the fertile earth, instantly. The grass lies low, the barren tree swings and I walk indoors, looking for a sweater. Life returns to hibernation and the order of things restores.