the fog

We're socked in. Deep. The fog rolled in on Saturday and has enveloped the whole city ever since. Except Burnaby Mountain, where it is clear and sunny. From SFU the vantage is crisp: mountain tops rising out of a grey soup.

I appreciate not being able to see very far, not being able to get to far ahead of myself. The fog demands attention to the here and now. To the cars stopping (or not) at the cross-walks. To the dark side streets I pedal through.

Last night Maiko and I were downtown at the corner of Robson and Granville where the power was out for two blocks. It looked like the street just dropped off into a velvety nothingness.

Me: Do you want to walk down there?
Maiko: No!
Me: Come on! When are we going to get a chance to do this again?

So we did. We walked the block. Kitto had candles on every table and in the kitchen. The flickering light guiding the cooks and diners. The retail stores were dark, the mannequins shadows in the windows. And the floorstaff shining flashlights on each other, dancing in make-believe discos. And people walked, quickly, down the street. Seeking out the light at the end of the block.

One block was enough for us, and when we came out of Chapters twenty minutes later the lights were back on. The magic was over.

But it was still foggy.