Grounding

The mists snaked their way across my yard, winding tightly around my shins as light danced in the distance. I couldn’t judge how far away the light had been, but that didn’t matter. I saw it bounce, reflecting in every sheet of fog before me. It was headed my direction.

Breathe in.

The pleasant smell of cool, damp, freshly cut grass filled my nostrils. What a peaceful morning it was. I breathed into my hand and sniffed. Two-day-old coffee. I thought to head back inside and brush my teeth so that I didn’t leave a bad impression during today’s meeting, but that didn’t matter.

Breathe out.

Smoke blended into the atmosphere, and was gone. I looked down at the smoldering end of my cigarette, its embers struggling to maintain, and let it drop to the ground. I gasped, bending down in shame, wanting to correct my mistake. But I didn’t need to worry about that anymore, it wouldn’t matter. I righted myself and glanced back out at the distant light. Wasn’t it moving at all?

Breathe in.

I coughed violently, the bitter taste coating my tongue. Fifteen years clean, all down the drain. I began to wonder about breakfast, and if I should make myself some toast. I imagined the bitterness being replaced with the overwhelming sweetness of my favorite strawberry jelly and smiled briefly. I shouldn’t think about breakfast, it didn’t matter.

Breathe out.

The morning chill crept its way into my bones and I shivered. I should have brought my coat. My joints ached once the chill reached them and I groaned. I was going to be sore all day, and this would make for a long, arduous shift. I began to think of what I would pack for lunch, but caught myself. That wouldn’t matter anyway.

Breathe in.

Birds chirped in the surrounding trees, their lilting song flowing as a river into my ears. I imagined that they were teaching their young to sing in the hopes of one day having a beautiful family of their own, and my eyes watered. I moved to look for them and find out the truth, but quickly resigned. It didn’t matter. I could hear the roaring engine in the distance. It must have been getting close at last.

Breathe out.

I steeled myself. This is what mattered.

Breathe in.

I took two steps toward the road, confidence surging. The light rushed past, taking with it a swath of churning mist, and I froze.

Breathe out.

I bent down to pick up the still burning cigarette and put it out, then turned around. I walked to the bin beside my front door and disposed of it properly. Maybe I will have that toast.