This week has been like a bit of a time warp for me. The Elephant has disoriented me, making morning conversations seem like they happened days ago, and vice versa.

I find myself back in the brain fog of grief.

I have to drive across an island to get from the island on which I work, to the mainland where I live. So, going back and forth, I drive across two bridges. I actually love this picturesque drive.

This afternoon it was a beautiful, clear and sunny day where I work. However, as I got to the bridge there was an illuminated sign reading, “Fog ahead. Use caution.” Indeed as I drove up the incline of the bridge, the world began to disappear before my eyes.

Living in a coastal town, fog is not unusual. In fact, I have written before about how I love the fog. It is quiet and soft, and it lends itself to the imagination.

However, today it struck me as ominous. The fact that we could so quickly shift from a beautiful day to the complete obliteration of…..the world.of the road on which we were traveling…it felt just too poetic.

It was eery.

It occurred to me that when traveling through the fog, we do take a certain leap of faith. We literally cannot see what lay ahead…yet we keep going. We may slow our pace, and we may proceed with caution. We may be justifiably leery of the potential obstacles in our path…but we never really doubt that the road will take us where we need to go.

And you know what…when I got to the other side, the sun was shining again.

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