The last thing I remembered was driving . . . somewhere. Somewhere important. I think to meet somebody. Through one window, the rocky face of mountain frowned at me in slow motion. Through the other, the sea nodded in groups of white-capped heads that mur…

As I turned right at the old adobe building, Carmen's voice piped up from the back seat. "Grandma, where are you going?"

I was surprised that she had noticed. Usually her head was bowed over her phone, oblivious to the world around her.

"The Iron Skille…

Heading to Starbucks for some writing, I turned on to Fernando Valley Road. It was one of those four lane roads where the city speed limit is upped to fifty. Across the median, I saw an old man on foot. Behind him a blue van sat defeated on the shoulder. …