chronicle of my journey through my matriarch years - love , work, dreams, frustrations, poems, paradoxes
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
It is super cold for a Texas winter, windhill close to zero. I heard on the radio today that the last time it was this cold in Austin was in 1951, and I suddenly remembered stories from my childhood. That was the year I turned one and my family moved from Austin to California during the winter. Mama always talked about how cold it was during that move, and how when it was xlose to zero, her hand stuck to the icy metal door handle on the old blue Packard. It's odd how bits and pieces of old stories come back unsummoned.