Thursday, September 24, 2009

The Magic of the Moment

It was the kind of morning mist only a true fog connoisseur could love.

I noticed it as soon as I slammed the kitchen door shut and turned around. It hung from the trees and swirled in the pre-dawn moonlight. I stopped at the fence, closed my eyes, and let it close in around me, enjoying its playful touch.

I sighed deeply and opened my eyes, jumping back into the reality of the moment.

I would have preferred sitting on the patio, watching the smoky tendrils bob and weave in the gentle breezes, but alas, I could not. No, I had to go out and wait for the first bus of the day. The office beckoned.

I'm glad I left the house a few minutes earlier than normal. Traffic was almost nonexistent at that hour and, with the fog, there seemed to be even less. The extra minutes outside in the peace and quiet enabled me to enjoy the dancing mist.

I crossed the street and sat on the brick wall. The fired clay blocks were slightly damp to the touch, but I didn't mind as I set my bag and purse next to me. Sitting there, I could feel the cloud-like fingers gently caress my shoulders.

I sighed deeply and slowly exhaled as the fog settled around me.

I looked up at the clouds. In the light of the full moon, the mist was highly visible as it moved on the generally invisible air currents. It looked like a wool blanket had enshrouded everything and was gently being pulled away.


A sudden wind gust kicked up as a lone car drove by, stirring the minuscule water droplets like a wooden spoon stirring a pot of pea soup. I looked up the road and could see a line of blurred, slow-moving, oncoming headlights. Checking my watch, I knew the bus was in that line. I sighed and stood, tossing my purse over my shoulder and the bag over my arm. Sure enough the bus was at the next corner.

As he pulled up to the curb and opened the door, I allowed myself one last outside glance. The driver shut the door and pulled out.

I looked out the window, but it wasn't the same.

I reached up and turned on the tiny overhead light, aiming it so I could read the morning paper. I shook my head in disbelief. There was enough global gloom on the front page to make me feel I was still sitting in the fog.

So many problems; yet so little relief in sight. I folded the paper and slid it back into my bag, preferring the blessed ignorance of the fog over facing the reality of the day.


  1. Your story kept me engaged and wrapped in a cloud, from the moment I walked out the kitchen door, caught my bus to work, and sat down in my seat with my newspaper. Whoops! Of course! It was you who walked out of her kitchen, caught her bus, and sat down in her seat.

  2. i love your storys but i don't know how to post with my name j joplin