This morning came early. The gray light shining in through the bedroom window woke me around 5:30 am. I tried to sleep, but the light kept nagging me to get up. So I did.
I thought about reading, about making a big breakfast, about going to work early, and finally about going for a walk. Maybe if I'd gone for the walk the night before, I'd have slept until my alarm woke me and hour and a half later. I pulled on my clothes and laced up my shoes quietly, as the bear in bed slumbered on, and penned a note in case he should worry why I disappeared.
Slipping into the cool morning air, I realized it wasn't just foggy, but a fine mist was coming down. I couldn't see the mesa or the mountains. I wasn't sure if it would burn off with the sunrise, but the moisture felt pleasant. The birds that had been noisily chirping and calling while I tried to sleep scolded me as I passed up the road. The neighbors' dog barked; a stray cat paused for invisibility, though white fur stands out in the lush green of a misty morning. As I climbed to the end of the road, I lost sight of our sleeping town under the blanket of fog. It felt good to be moving.
At the end of the road, I changed directions, letting gravity pull me back home as I picked up my pace. My face was soon slick with mist, droplets forming on my eyelashes. None of the usual parched feeling from jogging back down the road today. All the way home the rabbits took notice of me and ran into my path and back away again.
Home came into view. I was damp with the wonderful morning rain. I still had enough time for a quick shower and nap before my alarm.
The overcast skies persist, and I feel like a kid again.
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