There's something unlike the warmth of getting into a car right after it's been sitting in the sun. You know the moment, that moment right before you open the windows to let the car breathe. It's been holding it's breath all afternoon long, letting the sun soak through it's inviting exterior. Opening the door to get in is this quiet tease, but cracking the windows, letting the sweating cushions inhale and exhale, that's the sweet spot. For a minute I imagine myself sitting by a fire, wrapped up in a plush blanket, starring out of the windows of my parents Michigan cottage, and watching the snow fall.
Yesterday I spent an inordinate amount of time in the car. Driving back to the city from the suburbs, wearing what felt like a full incubation suit (i.e., a sweater, coat, jacket and scarf combo). It's fall, and that scene with the snow, and the fire, and the blanket, it's coming. But for now it's that one day hot, one day cold weather. No one knows which is the what until you've already dressed, you're walking down the street and your butt's sweating or your fingers are seemingly breaking off from the chill.
And while cars are immune to this weather right now -- with the sun and the normal daylight hours, and the heat inviting itself in -- I'm not. I can't decide if I'm ready for the chill yet. Wearing too many layers yesterday, I was ready, too ready, but today's a new day. Like every day. Who knows how ready any of us will be.
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