I opened my eyes and instantly felt that there was something different. Looking over at my alarm clock, I cursed myself for sleeping in, even as I resigned myself to the idea of it. As I rolled over to avoid the morning I glanced through the window. Out there, outside the window, the world had changed. Everything had a halo. At first I blinked a few times and groped for my glasses on my nightstand, thinking that my eyesight was blurry. But once my half-broken and taped spectacles were on, I knew that it was a true mist that rolled into my quiet neighborhood. Pulling a blanket from my unmade bed I dragged it to the door and made the decision to wander out into the fog. I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, not knowing what I would find once outside my threshold, though obviously not caring. My feet were bare. I reached for the handle, eyes glued to the scene outside the little crafstman windows, and opened the door.


I was overwhelmed. A rush of cool mist rolled in to meet me and it seemed to surge back out to take me away. The smell. The smell was different. Up in the redwoods the fog smelled of life and wisdom. You could smell the age of the redwoods and the dampness of the soil that never really went away. There would be a salty tinge on the back of each inhaled breath and with each exhale the mist would kiss your cheeks you would feel the tingle. Here, in this valley, the mist was different. The ocean, so far away, could only whisper of its brine. But the taste is of sand fleas and tides, and less of the salt. There was more desert in the smell of this fog as well. The evergreen and soil, replaced by dust and imported grass. Nothing native to itself. As I padded out farther into it, I could feel the moisture curling my hair. My feet cold on the damp cement. No one stirred or made noise. The fog had devoured wills and dampened the rustle of the palm fronds above me. Everything had a different color to it. Not more blue or white, but simply different. Instead of light touching it from the dawn, light seemed to come from everywhere. Every droplet of the mist carried within it a dim light so that the morning came from below as well as above. East and west at the same time.

I heard a frightened squeak near me and turned to see the local tom cat busy at his breakfast. He looked up and made eye contact for just a moment to give me a chance to observe and give him due praise for his prowess. I could see the mist in his eyes and the wildness in the ripple of his back. Almost as soon as our eyes had locked, he turned away. We were like two strangers in a big city. At the same time, hyperaware of eachother's proximity and ignorant of eachother's existance. A forced privacy. I took a deep breath and looked away. The cold in my feet had stiffened my ankles and suddenly I felt an itch to be away from this strange fog. It pressed down on me and invaded my skin. I turned to move back into the house, but stopped for a moment to consider the structure. It was cast in the everywhere light of the now oppressive mist. The house looked less than inviting and I felt the need to run. I didn't want to go back inside, where there was work and clutter and responsibility. I took a step back and my ankles creaked. Cold and stiff, I threw flighty thoughts aside in favor of warmth and tea and brightly colored socks.

Once inside the house, I waited as my ankles released their stiffened hold and allowed me to tip toe to the kitchen. My white cat curled around my legs, reminding me he needed his breakfast. That I had things that needed doing. As the hot water ran from the faucet I looked outside the kitchen window into the fog once more. Steam drifted up from the sink as my eyes drifted lower to my sad little herb plant sitting mournfully on my sill. I made a mental note to give it some love later and touched its sickly leaves. I filled my mug with water, turned off the faucet, and without looking back, I turned and walked away.