Come Autumn

If ever I needed to write through something… it was today.

I had a foggy drive to work this morning. Beautifully foggy. The weird fog that’s translucent enough to let the sun decide its color, but opaque and misty enough to be sort of haunting. Cool enough outside to have the heat on low in the car which was kind of comforting, as well. I had NPR on and the low, soothing tone of the speaker was nice. I stopped for coffee and that, obviously, comforted my soul as well. It had been a very weird weekend so this foggy-fall-like drive to work felt very normal. I felt very much like I had been here and done this before and I appreciated that feeling so, so much.

I’ve been sitting in a kind of limbo for 24 hours, or so. I imagine this limbo to be the purpose of “time-outs” or why drunk people get thrown in jail for a day. Just this suspended space where you have no choice but to be completely alone with your thoughts and yourself and air and space and breath. Where you’re supposed to think about what you’ve done and how you’ve acted and what your next move is. Just a big pause, button.

I didn’t want to press pause. I hate pressing pause. I live my life on fast forward, most of the time, but will settle for play. Pause is the enemy and rewind and I do not speak. Rewind is a jerk and a loser and, in my eyes, PAUSE is just way, way, way too close to Rewind for my liking.

So, here I am. Sitting on pause. Thinking about everything. Connecting dots. Analyzing. Calculating. Making decisions. Changing my mind. Crying. Eating. Not eating. Sleeping. Not sleeping. Just existing in this limbo that I’ve been shut up inside of.

But during my foggy drive to work… when I couldn’t see the cars in front of me, and I couldn’t see the stop lights ahead… and I was nervous… I thought about the fact that I could still see the sun. That light was permeating. That the fuchsia glow the fog had was visible even though nothing else was. That even though I hadn’t pressed pause or put myself in time-out… that I didn’t have to stay there. That I was allowed to move forward.

Here’s to moving forward.


Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s