Lake Shore drive at four thirty in the morning is dark, starting the slow progression toward daylight. As I drove, the fog rolled in and there was me, seeing very little ahead of me, and the fog, closing in around me, and the lights, leading the way home.
There was no sleep last night and I chased the moment and left, easing toward the center of the city and then home again. I parked, the fog lifting as I drew away from the lake. I walked home, down a tired, quiet block, the sky lightening above me and the moon still bright. I love the way the wrought iron gates of my building look in that grayish pre-dawn light. The black is somehow made more black by the gray light, and the green of the new summer foliage is greener and darker and more beautiful. The cobwebs hang between the iron bars and flutter slightly in the wind.
As the day progressed, the fog burned away and the sun came out, heating the earth. It’s sunny out now; I’m sure people are at the beach loving the sunlight. I’m at home, tired.
Perhaps tomorrow will be my day to get things done?

I’ll miss this place.