Day 6: Mountain Fog
Our small town rests this morning under a thick source of fog. The mountains are hidden behind it and our neighbor's home, where the man sits every day on his porch, shares snacks with his black dog, and blows bubbles with his great-grandson, are almost out of view.
Life, in a way I didn't know I needed, has slowed down since we moved to North Carolina. I spend more time looking out the kitchen window, talking with library clerks, and listening to my breath.
My husband, born and raised in New York City, has a mammoth sized heart but does not always trust new people, new situations. He can be impatient for change, I can too. There are small moments though, seen through our kitchen window, where I see a shift for him too. When I look out the window and see him sitting on our neighbor's porch, talking, petting the dog, and when I watch him bake cornbread for our neighbor's wife, because it is her favorite. Those shifts are felt in the foundation for us both.
It is now hours later and the fog has burned away. I can see our town through the window, the green of the mountain, the squirrels in the tree, and our neighbor, filling the bird feeders before he heads inside for breakfast.
Life, in a way I didn't know I needed, has slowed down since we moved to North Carolina. I spend more time looking out the kitchen window, talking with library clerks, and listening to my breath.
My husband, born and raised in New York City, has a mammoth sized heart but does not always trust new people, new situations. He can be impatient for change, I can too. There are small moments though, seen through our kitchen window, where I see a shift for him too. When I look out the window and see him sitting on our neighbor's porch, talking, petting the dog, and when I watch him bake cornbread for our neighbor's wife, because it is her favorite. Those shifts are felt in the foundation for us both.
It is now hours later and the fog has burned away. I can see our town through the window, the green of the mountain, the squirrels in the tree, and our neighbor, filling the bird feeders before he heads inside for breakfast.
Comments