Finding Clarity in the Fog

Rain races down the window of this old wooden mobile home, and outside,

the coastal road disappears into fog so thick you can't see ten feet ahead.

This is where I lived for eight months when everything fell apart. Lost my job,

lost my apartment, lost what I thought was my whole life. I parked this thing on a piece of land

my uncle owned, right where the forest meets the ocean. Every morning I'd

wake up to condensation covering the windows, the whole place damp and cold. I'd watch these

raindrops compete, betting on which one would reach the bottom first. Sounds pathetic,

but it kept me sane. The fog would roll in most afternoons, swallowing the road, the trees,