I stepped out of my home, leaving warmth and light behind me. I stepped into the early morning, though night, still, into a late season fog. Later, for this kind of fog, than I think is usual. I was immediately swept into it's feeling of closeness. My vision was reduced to a few feet and smoothed by the dark greyness. As I stood there disabled of one of my senses, I heard the night birds' calls, deer walking through the corn stubble, some unknown animal's chatter, more birds, ducks maybe.
It was comforting in a way, being temporarily blind, hearing what my eyes would never let me hear. It's been said, or I've imagined, that losing something makes one more keen in other ways. It is like the fog. It's like life, too, those of us that see too easily, don't know what we have missed. Take something away, and all becomes clear.
So, why do we crave that far-seeing vision that seems so comforting? Here is the fog, let's wrap it around us, comfort from the storm.
It's clear today, something is gone.
Goodbye fog. Goodbye Ray.
Updated: 1:12 AM GMT on November 22, 2006
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