Vitamin Clear

Everything's uncertain today. Ice coats the streets. Fog hangs in the air thick enough to feel against my bare skin. My own mind feels thick with the cares of yesterday, the worries of today, and the concern about what matters most. 

Around me, people and traffic ease along at a slow, cautious pace, the speed with which I imagine the sun must be edging toward rising. On Kendall Road, my headlamp illuminates just enough ground for running, but succumbs within 18 inches of my face to the white wall of condensation. I move carefully in this shapeless void, scanning the foreground for hints of oncoming headlights and keeping a close eye on my dog. She's weaving, as usual, lost in her world - until suddenly, she snuffles at a peculiar, blue spot in the road.

I stop, too. It's a piece of old gum, surprisingly interesting to a dog typically intent on festering piles of unmentionable origin. 

I stare at the gum, a tiny, bright patch in this pre-dawn mist. Behind my annoyance at litterbugs, beneath my realization that I can't just carry it home in my pocket for disposal, a curious sensation arises. I appreciate that little blue wad - though I can't exactly say why.

Inwardly shaking my head, I move on. Ever so slowly, dawn overtakes darkness, and tree silhouettes now mark my progress. As I head toward home, I realize the fog has been lifting, as well. Its myriad, suspended ice crystals have melted, dropped to the ground, and dampened the exposed hair on my head. In the ditch to my left, a drift of old leaves sports a transient patina of frost. It, too, will disappear after sunrise. The world of this morning's run will transform, solidifying into sharp lines, safe roads, and clear shapes standing bright in the full winter sun. 

And that's what I must have appreciated about the blue gum. It offered a pinprick of clarity. A drop of certainty in an ocean of gray. Here I am, it said by its presence. I am clear.

I marvel at the message this trash-bit provides. No matter the mists in my ongoing world, like that little roadside surprise, I am here. And I am clear, too. I'm clear that the space I occupy is mine, the place I inhabit is not wasted, and the work that I do not in vain. Whatever comes next, I don't know. But I cherish my blue-gum moment and move, with more certainty, into my oncoming day.