Above Coldwater Canyon, the fallen angel fluttered in the warmth of soft blue air.
After an eternity looking over her city, guarding it long before the arrival of the Spaniards, she faltered and then fell.
At the time, none of this registered with her. It was as if she had simply flown from one angelic duty to another. She noticed none of the shadows that form along the journey from good to evil.
But she had not taken the complete trip. Her voyage came to an end well before the darkness.
Only later did the fallen angel take stock of this. A link in the chain that tethered her to what she had been told was heaven had come undone.
What she had fallen into was not evil, but a newfound world of reason and choice.
Above Coldwater Canyon, the fallen angel expressed thanks for the survival of her grace.
Then she figured it was time to look in on the people in the little house off Kanan Dume Road.
