a hideous haze
I’m sitting on my front porch. It’s awesome that I have a front porch to sit on. I went to the doctor today because I have strep throat. It’s awesome that I have a throat that it can get strep. I’m really thankful and really sad right now. I am watching the smoke layer float in front of the sun as it sets across the valley. My friend’s house burned down yesterday along with 20 other houses in this little town called Palermo just south of Oroville. I am watching the particles that used to be his home, his stuff, his box of things he will always want to go back and look at someday. I am watching those particles light up the evening sky. We always try to talk like we are tough. You can’t take it with you. Which I know, and you know, but if you can’t even get it back tomorrow, does it matter, or can we move on? I don’t know, but right now I am really thankful and really sad. Sirens mean something entirely different on days like today. I wish that cameras could do it justice, but it cannot. It is thick and brown and yellow and pink and purple and concise and daunting, this haze that sits between me and the setting sun. Maybe the wind will take it away tonight. Maybe it will stay here and remind us of eternal things, what real value is.