I grew up in California's San Joaquin Valley - an area located inland from the west coast of the USA, rich with agriculture, canals and irrigation ditches. During the winter months, fog would roll in at night, blanketing everything in the early morning hours.
I remember looking out at the fog from our front window as kids, not being able to see past the front yard and fingers crossed for a "foggy day" schedule. On foggy school mornings, we'd tune in to a local AM radio station to listen for delayed bus schedules. If the fog was thick enough in our area, school buses were delayed by an hour or two to allow the fog to lift enough that driving conditions were safer. Even then, our bus driver was strict about having us wait on the church steps until she had come to a complete stop before we approached the bus. Visibility was that low.
As an adult I hated the fog. Actually, I only really hated driving in it. It's scary to be behind the wheel of a car and not be able to see past the front end of your vehicle! Driving was slow at best. My mom drove 45 minutes each way to work in foggy conditions every winter. I hated that for her - worried about her driving in the fog every winter! But hey, driving in the fog is not what ultimately claimed her, and cancer was something that had never crossed my mind for my mother. I totally worried about the wrong thing for her! ♥
And so it is with me, that the subject of fog presents itself in a writing prompt - the perfect metaphor at this point in my life. These days I feel as if my life is on a foggy day schedule; delayed just a little until I can see my path more clearly. The things I worry about on the path before me are most likely not even there. And like my mom, the fog will not be my ultimate demise. It's just there to provide a little buffer - a gentle reminder to be patient and not rush things.
There's nothing wrong with a little self-imposed foggy day schedule once in a while.
Besides, I've always been an excellent driver.