I am descending the Camarillo grade.
Halfway down I see nothing but clouds. The entire landscape is obscured from view.
It’s quite pretty this morning, in a chilly sort of way, and as I approach Exit 50 fog appears.
I can still see the tail lights of the cars ahead of me, and the sound wall, and the curves as I approach, but it’s getting denser now and the road signs are slightly obscured.
Today’s going to be a beautiful day even though at the moment I can’t see it.
Moments like these remind me to be thankful for this place that I live and the people in my life.
Written 28 Oct ’18, before the fires.
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.