The sun has found its way back through the clouds.
A war is raging (perhaps "dancing" is a better word) between the sun and Portland's clouds. Three hours of sunshine are often replaced by three more hours of rain, and vice versa.
I was supposed to have lunch with my father today, but I was holding an incorrect set of directions. Between 12 noon and 1pm, I must have walked three jagged miles in an area less than one square mile.
I finally met him at 1pm, when I knew he would return, frustrated, to his office. We chatted for a few minutes about the actual location of the restaurant, and I headed to the local Kung Pao specialty shop for a $3.50 bowl of Kung Pao chicken.
But, bless the powers that be, the sun remained clearly and proudly above me until the moment I returned to my office.
Then the rain came.
And now, at 5pm, the sun is back for an encore appearance.
Behind me, Frank Sinatra is working his way through a jazz favorite.
Out in the light, the shadows are long.
