Fog

The fog rolled in on Sunday and spread its unrelenting fingers over the coast. On my walk to the beach I could see the distant hills bathed in sunlight and blue sky, a reminder that happiness lies just out of reach for me at this moment in my life. It’s there, waiting patiently for me to arrive, but I figured out that I have to come to it. It won’t knock on my door. That fact really pisses me off and yet I have no choice, but to seek it out. In fact it is an agonizing ongoing journey, this “happiness thing,” and I’m hoping my stamina grows as I proceed because right now I am exhausted. I am mentally, physically, and emotionally wiped out. I just keep thinking “make it to the airport!”

The jewel in my eye at the moment is, of course, my trip to Africa. I want it to be so many things that I might just be sabotaging myself. I know it won’t be the cure to my disease of sorrow and despair, but it most certainly will be eye opening and amazing. Amazingly beautiful, amazingly shocking, amazing-horrifying, amazingly profound in ways I don’t know yet. I’m ready to feel those emotions, gain some perspective and move beyond these foggy days.