It’s foggy today. Not pea soup, thick, dreary fog like we used to get, but still pretty foggy. Growing up on what was the very edge of town, I remember foggy days that seemed to go on forever. We’d have days and days of fog delays when we'd get to sleep in and thank God for the fog. After a while though, it gets old.
Dense fog is a weird thing. Staring into it, trying to make out an image, or a light or something, there is a strange sense of blindness. It’s very different from dark blindness. Fog makes you light blind. It’s a different kind of cold too. Snow cold is crisp and sharp. Fog cold penetrates the bones and the soul. It’s grey, wet, deep, and it has a funny way of sapping your will to live.
Yet somehow I still sort of miss the fog of my childhood.
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