A Foggy Day

Today feels different.

After a week of unexpected autumn warmth, I woke to a world wrapped in fog.

Not cold, just quiet… soft… a little mysterious.

The kind of morning that makes everything slow down for a second.

No work today. Just the simple rhythm of life, pick up the dog, school drop-off, take the car in for a service, then walk back to my daughter’s place.

Nothing extraordinary.

Day two on the right medication. Still so early. They say it can take months to notice a real change… but I can’t help quietly watching, wondering, counting.

There’s something about today though, the fog, the stillness , that makes it feel like a beginning.

Countdown starts here.

After dropping the car off, I decided to walk home with the dog .

But the walk has told me something I didn’t want to fully face.

She can’t really walk anymore.

The arthritis has taken hold, and what used to be an easy hour has stretched into two… and we’re still not home yet.

Every step is slow, careful, and a bit painful to watch.

And while I started the day in my head , day off, task after task, things to get done , this walk has completely changed the pace.

She couldn’t rush, so I couldn’t either.

Somewhere along the way, the frustration softened.

The fog, the quiet, the forced slowing down… it actually became something else.

Something still. Something present.

This wasn’t the walk I planned.

But maybe it was the one I needed.