The Fog

I was drawn to it, called even. That confrontation of flesh and steel. I remember clearly thinking I would not make it home.

But then I did.

The fog dulled the sting for some time. Too many times, hard drink made the fog thicker. Eventually the sun came out, warming my face and heart. But that took a long time.

Things are different now. I don’t forget, but I don’t think about it every day. I am grateful for that.

Hard as it was, I had to go.

Sometimes the fog will still settle in. But it doesn’t stay. When the sun burns it away, I can see flowers have grown in the hard place.