Tuesday, December 27, 2011
In a Fog
Maia and I were out walking a few days before Christmas. It was chilly, damp, and fog was moving in and out. Sometimes I saw blue sky. Then fog would sweep in and obscure everything. Sky, trees, shrubs, houses....all were drained of their color. The sun was there, a floating perfect disc in the sky curtained by the fog. If I were a painter, that is how I'd paint the season of grief. Wan, cold, damp punctuated by bursts of sunshine and "normal" color. But I'm not a painter. I can't make an image of grief; I can only experience it and live through and with it. There are no choices about living in the season of grief. My choice is which path I take through the fog.