Coming into work I cross over the Schuylkill River every morning, just about halfway to the office. I’m usually a little foggy myself, but I always enjoy my glimpse of the river as I cross over. “How are the fish biting today? Is the water up? Wish I was putting in the kayak for a paddle.” These kinds of thoughts run through my head, but then I’m past it, and on up the hill to work.
This morning though, as it sometimes is in the spring, it was otherworldly crossing over the bridge. The colors had all drained away and it was nearly impossible to tell where the river left off and the sky began. I stopped to just look at it for a while, and saw this shot in my head before I even took it.
It seemed like an interesting metaphor for many mornings. You kind of emerge from the fog of sleep, to be faced with all these tangled issues that twirl and branch and seem insurmountable, but the fog dissolves and slowly the way, somewhere in between, usually appears.
Its funny how on the way home, I usually get a sunset off the water, the river once again reflecting the day. Sometimes you’ve just got to keep rolling on, whether you can see what’s coming or not.