Sunday Morning

Last night I fell asleep on the couch. I knew I should go up to to bed, but I couldn't seem to make myself leave the living room. There is something so soothing and healing about a wood fire and it seemed like it would be such an effort to lift the quilt that covered me and pad upstairs. Besides, the old cat sleeping in my lap would not have been pleased.

This morning, the world outside is all one color: White. Not because it is snowing, but because a thick fog embraces us. It's created a sort of painting, in which the bare branches of the trees and bushes are sillouetted against a white background.

With fog, you can't see too far into the distance. In life we are often looking too far ahead, thinking that we can know the future. The fog reminds us that we can only see a little way. It reminds us that if we walk into the fog, what lies ahead will be revealed only with that next step, and the next. And the next.