I was watching a show when the phone rang. It was my son asking for a ride. The car he usually drives is in the shop and he needed groceries. 

 

The plot I was absorbed in involved a blizzard. Three feet of snow had brought a town to a screeching stop, and citizens were huddled by their fireplaces. There was a quilt on my own lap, pulled up in solidarity. In the episode people were stepping into bravery, to bring wood, and hot soup to their neighbors. 

 

I quickly said yes to the ride, though for a moment was worried about driving in slippery conditions. Where were my mittens? With some effort I pulled myself out of the imaginary and back into the real world, the one with clear streets. Looking out the window I reassured myself that all of the harsh weather was confined to the screen. 

 

I believe, at least in theory, that this world is the phantom existence. Things like money, and power, bodies and possessions loom large. Yet one day in the not very distant future they will vanish like a show I finished watching. 

 

The storyline that will endure is the one chronicling my efforts to go out of my comfort zone for people I love.