Weathering

Right now, it's mid-morning. The sky is grey and the fog is thick. Outside the temperature is at least twenty degrees cooler than it is inside, causing beads of condensation to form on the window sills. If you were standing outside at this exact moment, you wouldn't know where you were. San Francisco, Seattle, London, Paris. I'll tell you where I'd think I was. Some town near the coast, the Atlantic coast, and it's early morning when the sea air is still free to roam as it pleases.

It's dreary now. But in just a couple of hours, the fog will drift away. The sun will rise higher in the sky and the grey will slowly melt into tones of blue, until only the brightest blue you've ever seen remains. There won't be a cloud in the sky. The sun will radiate warmth and light. And here in Los Angeles on a typical day in March, it will feel like summertime. This afternoon, I'll be able to go to the beach, lay out on the sand, enjoy the sounds of a calm sea under a ceiling of endless blue. I just have to wait inside for a little longer.

Today it will be sunny, but tomorrow it might rain. Then again, tomorrow could be even sunnier than today. Despite what some may believe, I don't think it's possible to predict the weather. I don't think we can ever know in advance what tomorrow will look like, feel like, whether it will be cold and gloomy, warm and sunny, or unusually windy. But today, as I look out my window and watch the fog roll across the edge of the sky, I sense that soon this gloom will pass. I can feel it in the air. I suppose it's because I've lived here for so long. I know that sometime around 11 a.m. the sun will start to defeat the fog, the blue will find a way to overpower the grey, and the weather will turn, just as it always does.

Just as it always will.