I came back to the city I was born and raised to attend to some family matters on very short notice in early January 2016.

It was probably 20 years since I was last back here this time of year. It would have been for the holidays. Maybe 35 years or more since I was here in January — the real heart of winter. The temperatures on the predawn Sunday morning, when I arrived, were in the low teens. It was colder Monday. A light snow had been falling each day.

My father's health had been failing for some time, but now had taken a turn for the worse.  You could sense these were his last days.  I detoured through the neighborhood I lived in during the 1970's on my drive back to the hotel that Sunday afternoon from my father's last place he would call home. On Monday night, that would become a certainty. 

It was one of two neighborhoods I grew up in from 1960-78. The other was about a mile and a half from here, pointed in the same general direction ahead of me. 

It was late in the afternoon, close to five. The midwinter sun was managing to peek through the icy clouds. I just liked the soft light on the newfallen snow. And the icy tree cover. I pulled the rental over and took a photograph — mostly for memory's sake.

This city is no longer my home. I moved to the west coast — for the most part — at 18 years old. I've always liked this city but maybe I took this town for granted then. 

It is unlikely I'll visit here again in a future January unless there's another family emergency. But there are times when this city has real beauty and charm.