The Fog Has Rolled In

I'm back in my office after this morning's solemn boat ride.

I'm sad.

Portland harbor is totally shrouded in fog. If the family had tried to go out on a boat this afternoon we could not have done it. The fog is low and thick and chilly and has spread inland from the water. It's blocking my view of Munjoy Hill as well as my view of the big oil rig on the harbor.

I'm having trouble concentrating on the last few things still on my desk.

I'm sad about leaving. Not regretful -- I know it's the right choice -- but sad, excited, agitated, and scared all at once. There are things I'm leaving unfinished. There are things I'm leaving that I haven't done as well as I could have. My concentration hasn't been as good as it usually is. I don't like leaving that way. And, of course, I don't know what's ahead -- that's all in the fog.

I'm scared that too much time alone and unstructured will make me forget what I know now -- that I'm good at thinking and working with people and solving problems, legal ones and business ones; that I have lots of options; that I can choose what it is I want to do and how I want to do it. I'm afraid I'll feel desperate and panicky and limited by other people's imaginations.

Comments

[Richard Ames]

Nothing of what you fear will come true. I've seen enough difficult times to know what I speak of. Life has a way of holding us up and falling, not down, but into its rightful place. Knowing this right now is sure to make your uncertain times more tolerable, and life more content.