I
remember when my firstborn was three,
and we’d been driving down a road in early morning, toward the house in
Montague Center.
I passed by a fog filled field, pulled the car over, unbuckled
him from his car seat, and out we ran, into that impenetrable fog.
You could
not see into it, and once you were far into the field, you could no longer see
the road or car.
The metaphor sank into me, as we laughed, running back and forth, amazed, playing in a
morning cloud.
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