The fog was thick when I woke today and I didn’t wake all that early.
The fog waited for me to make my coffee and breakfast, check Instagram (to see if anyone else had noticed the fog) and was still there thick and proud around 8:30 as I ate and supped.
It was beautiful.
Fog is beautiful.
(And not just in amateur Instagram pics.)
It holds secrets and great power.
It delays planes and hides things that we know are there.
It faded this morning into the sky giving the illusion of the clouds kissing the ground.
Tonight my husband is going away for work. For the rest of the week.
And I’m not worried about it.
My brain has been tongue kissing fog for the best of a year now. I couldn’t see clearly. I couldn’t see around it. I couldn’t fathom how I was going to keep coping.
I dreaded my husband being away last year. I would wake up ridiculously early. Get ready for work. Drop one son at before school care and the other at Childcare just after 7am.
Then I would go and work with children all day, putting on my happy face in a not entirely friendly environment then pick up the boys, listen to their tired afternoon antics, feed them, bathe them and then… try and get them to sleep.
I would be fearful of 7:30 all day. Bed time.
I hated that he would still be awake at 8:30. Fighting me.
Sometimes 2 hours later at 9:30 I would give up and turn off all the lights and hide, crying quietly while hoping that he would get bored and go to sleep.
But not tonight.
Tonight I’m going to patiently snuggle that no so little 4 year old and listen to his stalling and let him say what he needs to say and let him voice his wonderful thoughts. Then I’m going to watch him go to sleep with a smile on my face.
And then I’ll eat some chocolate in bed as a reward for feeling so damn good.
The brain fog has lifted and the real meteorological fog delights me.