There is a slight fog cover this morning in Sunny California. The sky is slowly opening, a hand taking the gray lid, unrolling it to expose a periwinkle sky. I can hear the loud squawks of the blue bird clan, letting all the others know they’re alive. In the distance I can hear the cars go by on the road, wheels turning; and the airplane in the sky, a loud hum. If I listen very carefully, I can hear the mountains in the distance, the grass cracking, the leaves rustling. I feel the light breeze sneak through my window as it dances by my cheek.