It’s another icy morning. The fog is dense on the highway, and denser still on the trail, where it dips low towards the marsh and the river. Frosty ground is slick beneath my boots and branches and grasses sparkle white as my light passes over them. I’m thinking about hot coffee, grateful for warm gloves.

I won’t sit long at my halfway point. It’s too cold to write comfortably, and the fog obscures the view. It’s a work day, too, and timing matters.

I’m in a bad mood this morning. My Traveling Partner started my day with his annoyance over some small thing, and I didn’t need that on top of my tinnitus screeching in my ear and this fucking headache, and my arthritis. I keep trying to push past it. Move on. Let it go. It wasn’t my annoyance, after all. Pain sucks, though, and I’m cross about dealing with it. I’m hoping for a relaxed routine work day after a lovely holiday weekend.

I yawn in the cold morning air and see my breath mingle with the fog. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to start the day. It’s time to let small shit stay small and not take other people’s bullshit personally. It’s time to begin again.