Cold Air & A Voice

“Arctic air is not to be trifled with.” His words when I asked about the slightly grimy cardboard after I sighted it the first time. I was in my early twenties.

My grandmother and grandfather lived in two homes during my childhood that I vividly remember. Both had carports, which as a child I found mesmerizing. Our old homes in the big city did not have these “modern” features. Low brick walls and a slick concrete floor defined the second and last carport.

In the heat of summer and on breezy days, they could be known to park the car further back in the driveway and not under the carport. This signaled that part of the evening would be spent in aluminum-framed folding chairs with the plastic webbing reforming our thighs.

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