Fog of Memory

We all woke up before dawn this morning. It’s the harbinger of fall, the late sunrise.

“Look outside,” I said to my kids as we ate breakfast (quiche). “The sun just rose.”

When we went outside to see it, the ground was covered with a thick fog, lighting up in the early morning sunlight.

Nicholas said, “It’s like Sugarloaf,” the mountain in the Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee where our family goes camping. Catherine didn’t say much, but she grinned.

I felt the same way. I remember so many happy foggy mornings: biking to school in the fall. Getting up early to take the SAT (yeah, really). Countless vacations. Ordinary days made memorable by the way the light shone through countless water droplets suspended in the air.

I hope that my children look back on this morning and remember how happy they were.