This morning I woke up to heavy grey skies with the threat of rain. Today is Mike Slagles funeral and the weather suits my mood.
“Would you rather drive than ride?” Thomas ask’s me. “Cuz I ‘m on the line.”
We were sitting on the patio looking out over the arroyo and the clouds are rolling in over the mountain, getting deeper and blacker.
“Riding, I am not on the line.” I say.