Time: 10 minutes.
A snowstorm. In Cotuit. We lost power for days. No electric heat. Only fire, fueled by the dismantled coffee table.
A thunderstorm. In Lenox. We sat in the window seat, watched the lightning, faces rapt, and listened to the rain.
A rain shower. In Clinton. We jumped in the puddles, smiling our we-have-all-the-time-in-the-world smiles.
A heat wave. In Arizona. We drove and drove and drove, and our boombox melted, and we smiled.
A cold snap. In Lenox. We cooked chicken soup and sat on the brown couch and cozied in.
A blue sky. We lounged in a cemetery on my birthday and read aloud.
Be a weatherperson.