Foggy Morning

This morning the fog was so thick when I walked the dogs before sunrise that even the headlamp didn't help very much. I felt lost on a trail I thought I could walk in my sleep. Is this where I turn? Is that where the trail splits?

Dog eyed me oddly, not understanding my hesitation. To him, with his keener eyes and much keener scent, the way no doubt was obvious. I was surprised to be even momentarily confused, surprised that someplace I know so well still held any new surprises for me. I moved on, trusting that my path would become clear as I stepped forward, but not actually sensing that it was so. It is the same kind of trust that makes me believe the sun will come up in the east each morning, even though a cloudy day brings no sense that it is there.

Sometimes, trust is all we have to move us forward through a day or a life, too. We trust that the brakes won't fail or the body won't fail today. We trust that somehow we'll find the way to keep on moving. It helps, sometimes, to have a good companion there beside us to wait patiently while we pause and then urge us gently forward and into the darkened woods ahead.