“I have a cold,” she said as I returned the water bottle to her. I had just let Atticus drink out of it and as my sister seemed fine I didn’t worry too much about her diagnosis.
The next morning never woke up. The sky was charcoal and heavy all day. The high was 45 and it rained until evening. It reminded me of Seattle. We welcomed it.
This morning there were coughs, sniffles and a fever. It is nearly 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday and Atticus is sleeping on the couch next to me. He fell asleep to Christmas music that was much too loud, but just the way he liked it. He fell asleep with a head stuffed and hot.
He’ll wake up soon and I’ll wish I too had napped instead of writing this. I am sore and congested. I feel a fever.
His thirst is quenched and the cold marches on. Winter has come home.