This morning, the sky merges with the earth in a grey vapor, the air damp and heavy. The atmosphere appears to be struggling to move, the clots of fog moving in slow motion, as if deliberating their next move. Will they fly away or collapse into raindrops, washing the sky and brightening the day? Perhaps it’s neither. Perhaps, instead, this drab day will linger a while, doing its best to suffocate good cheer. People tell me Oregon is wonderful (and I know it is), but the repeated days of grey skies and rain can take their toll on the psyche. I’ve only experienced Oregon with blue skies and crisp air. Even with rain, with clouds blocking the sun, what I remember of Oregon would, I think, still be beautiful. It’s odd that I don’t have the same sense here, where I live. When the day is dark and the sky is dull—not menacing, just dull—I tend to find my mood slipping. Today, though, I won’t permit it. Today, I will forge through the fog, head high and mind clear, and embrace opportunities to enjoy life. That’s the attitude, isn’t it? Indeed it is. Just as I write this, I look out the window and see more light. The fog is thinning and the leaves of nearby trees are turning from deep, forest green, almost black, to lighter shades that beckon birds and smiles. Yes, the day will be just fine, and so will I.
[Even I, the writer of the dark, need an occasional saccharin thrown into the mix.]