I've not looked at the calendar, turned on the radio, nor opened my cell phone, so I'm not exactly sure what the date is. All I know is that it is the end of a week in which the rains never stopped; the week in which the kids at school were told to crawl under their desks due to a tornado warning; the week in which it was not uncommon to see trash cans floating down the street.
We don't have many weeks like that in southern California.
I don't know yet what today's date is, but I know that this is a morning on which I can see my breath indoors. Everyone except me is still asleep. Even the dog has yet to ask to be let out.
I turn on the heater and make myself some hot green tea. I take the tea, a book, and a blanket, and settle in the chair by the window. As the antique clock on the mantle ticks away, I reach over and turn the lamp on. Dawn is breaking, but it's not yet light enough to read by.
The tea is still too hot to drink, but the cup is just the right temperature for me to hold with both hands and let its warmth bring life into my cold fingers. Once it cools a little, I take a sip. Ahh. Just right.
I read for awhile, finish my tea, and hold the ceramic cup for a minute longer, letting the last of the warmth flow into my hands before setting it down. Then I look up, and notice a sliver of sunlight on the opposite wall.
I continue reading, but can't resist looking back to the wall. The sliver is growing.
Again, I try to read, and again, my eyes are drawn to the wall. Now the whole wall is glowing, brilliantly yellow and bright. What a sight! It glows with the color of hope and joy and optimism and peace. What glorious light!
I turn the lamp off--it is no longer needed--and resume reading. A few minutes later, I look up again, and the sunlight is gone. Well, not gone, exactly. It has passed behind a tree across the street, so it has become more diffuse. The room is still bright.
An hour has passed.
"Ahh." A soft voice from the hallway. A young child has found his place by the wall heater. The dog is also awake, asking to be let out now. Soon, the house will be full of noise. Neighbor kids will be knocking on the door, asking to play.
Saturday has begun.