Mornings unlike November

The fog was rich last night... so thick you could almost pull it into your mouth and squeeze the juice out with your tongue. It was a night for ghosts, for spirits, and for the lonely. It was as if you could get lost without taking a step, but it's very presence was ephemeral, fleeting. Each moment I tried to take it in my arms, it was gone like breath.

The fog's transitory nature showed it's face today (or, by very definition, did not show it's face today), and I woke up to a sky of sunshine beating back the clouds... clouds wanting to share their load with the city in form of fairyland tears. This autumn on the coast has been anything but autumn-like. Days of sunshine and warmth have punctuated the typical and continual gray that generally hangs over the island at this time of year. The ocean's storm season will soon be here, where the winds will force the waters to crash upon the shores and drench those people unlucky enough to be running down a peninuslar boardwalk or get caught upon a marina dock. The sea during this stormy time is not patient, and will not politely wait until the area is clear.

A memory... reading a book by Douglas Coupland... story's scene presents a seagull standing on top of a heap that used to be a building. The building had been bombed and was now just a pile of rubble. The comment? Some along the lines of... "Even though we can clearly see the destruction, to the bird, it's just... the world." ( I know I butchered it, but the sentiment of the quote remains, I think).

Throughout literature, the weather has been personified in various ways, and has been used as a metaphor for countless things... a person's luck, the state of society, crime and punishment in our human world. So I guess the weather is acting as my own metaphor... the sun trying to shine through when I know it's supposed to be raining. Since moving to the coast in the first place, I've always said that I've always only needed a day or two of sunshine during these dark months to get me through to the cyclical rebirth of life in spring. I guess, too, the same goes for my personal life... as long as I can catch a glimpse of the metaphorical sunshine and find some reasons to hope, I'll be able to walk on.

Thus, since the sun is my cue... on I walk.

T