Fog in the Park

One day, last week, we awoke to fog.  After Steve left for work, the kids and I went about our morning routine and finally ended up strapped into my SUV on the way to the elementary school drop-off.  As is my habit when there’s somewhere to be and a certain time to be there, I drove hurriedly by the park at the end of our alley without observing its beauty.  But my peripheral vision caught the difference brought on by the fog that morning, and I took notice.

Although it meant the children might be tardy, I pressed the brake, reversed, and pulled to the curb.  “Look at the park, guys,” I said, and picked up my cell phone/camera.  The three of us got out of the car and stood gazing into the park from its edge in wonder.

The trees were draped in fog and glistening in diffused sunlight.  There looked to be some heavenly beings gliding around inside the cloud that had descended to earth and settled in our neighborhood park.  Angels?

We bunched together, leaned in, and squinted.  Were they moving slowly toward us?  Surely they would come out of the cloud to greet us, smile kindly on those of us created a little lower than they.  Would they bring us some news from paradise, a message from God?  Would they offer us a hint of what to expect?  Perhaps they would produce for us a vision of our family, ourselves in 10 years . . . 20 . . . 50.

We peered and waited in silence.

After a little while, the kids and I got back in the car, returned to our thoughts of the day at-hand, and continued our journey . . . to school.

Thank you for listening. — Twyla

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