David used to say that I made him promise never to move more than 50 miles from the Gulf Coast. I don’t recall those exact words, and he never did put me to the test. However, those parameters have defined my life. A few stretches, yet always within the confines of Louisiana and South Texas. I taught school for three years in Shreveport. Every few weeks, I would leave in the dark of early morning to head south on black topped secondary roads. The only marker was a yellow center stripe, and the unknown depth of ditches on each side was blurred in with the edge of the road. As I passed through Elm Grove headed toward Coushetta and a coffee stop, that heading home feeling kicked in.
One defining characteristic of living near water is weather matters. Weather conditions top every newscast as if nothing can be faced responsibly without that settled first Tides are reported along with fishing comments. “Crappie are running near the mouth of the river.” Water falling varies from scattered showers to heavy rains upstream that lead to floods to hurricanes which also can have force winds. One of the most eerie is dense fog. The phenomena occurs in various seasons created by some mixture of moisture in the air and temperature conditions of the ground. One can go to bed on a clear night and wake barely able to see down the sidewalk to find the paper.
We’ve had two dense fog advisors from the weather men the last two days. Sometimes the prognosticator is brave enough to declare a clearing time, which may or may not be accurate. Driving through wispy or sometimes thick blockage of landmarks slows down movement, especially if the area is unfamiliar. On a highway, a pattern of red tail or brake lights define what is ahead.
So, for two days, I have ventured out early encased in grey swirls to clock some walking before rain comes. Exercise is one of my obsessive actions only because in the back of my mind I can easily ignore it. Yesterday required I put a reflective vest over my raincoat to make me visable crossing a street. The walks reminded me of my life since last March and the predictions of clearing are not yet. To step out and carry on calls for moments of resolve and attention to safety. I think about whether to get a vaccine or do I change choices of where I will go. Before the day was over, mist vanished and sunshine appeared. In Exodus, when a cloud, a dense fog, was over the tabernacle, staying put was the order of the day until it lifted. Yet, even in 2021, a time will come when I, we, can move on with what we consider our lives.
Throughout all their journeys, whenever the cloud was taken up from over the tabernacle, the people of Israel would go forward. Ezekiel 40:36
Let Me Tell Ya 