Going To School On A Foggy Morning

In autumn, it isn't unusual to roll out of bed and find the countryside enshrouded in a thick veil of fog, and that has been the case on several mornings this September. Fog is really nothing more than ground-level clouds that are formed when the air temperature drops to match the dew point - the temperature at which the air can no longer hold all of the water contained within it. The escaping water condenses into misty droplets, and all of a sudden we have fog!

I remember the times many years ago when we kids would stand outside in the fog waiting for the school bus to arrive. From somewhere in the misty distance we would hear the grinding sound of Mr. Chester Jones shifting gears as he approached our stop. Then a few seconds later, the dim yellow outline of the school bus would slowly drift into view. With brakes squealing, the lumbering bus would come to a halt, Chester would open the door, and a brand new school day would begin.

It's funny how as we get older, we can often remember in vivid detail events from our youth that were really quite insignificant in the grand scheme of our lives, yet we cannot remember what happened two days ago regardless of how important is was. I guess it's God's way of letting us know that we're getting older and reminding us that memories are to be made during childhood. I just hope and pray that most of the memories that my granddaughter Olivia carries with her as she gets older will be happy ones.

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