Yesterday, one prevailing thought...

It is unusually warm for December, but such unseasonable temperatures are not without precedent. I can clearly recall the day in December of 1982 when it reached 70 degrees - 12/06/82 - the day of my grandmother's funeral. I remember the somber buffet, spread on the table where we'd watch her roll out great mountains of dough into gigantic disks for holiday sweets(never again to be tasted) - the percolator, dispensing the funeral coffee(my first cup?), on the cherry desk with the smooth, heavy drawers and handles of brass - next to it, the black phone with the straight cord on which she'd call her daughter to tell of my safe arrival from the soccer fields around the corner - the still swingset by the apple tree where, at dusk, we'd exchange secret knowledge then compete to see who could go higher and further - the graveside songbird serenades - the unpleasant smell of flowers - soaking in my argyle sweater and the sweeping sense of transition that coarsed through my nerves. Most of all, I remember my mother's tears.