MINDFUL POND MOMENT

For once in about a month, it's not raining when I leave for work.  My car is plastered with wet leaves from the rain that stopped just a short while before, but, other than residual street flooding that splatters up from the road, I don't need my windshield wipers.  The sun is attempting to make an appearance, and the light of day looks remarkably like any normal, non-monsoon day.

So it is a normal day for a short while, until the car turns right instead of going straight across the intersection.  I know, I know: technically I'm in charge of the car's direction, but I don't feel like I am.  My car wants to take the side street through the state forest.  Usually my drive around the perimeter is enough -- patches of forest, splotches of ponds, and lots of rocks large enough to climb. 

This morning, though, not so much.

As soon as the car and I glide through the gate-like entrance, I know exactly where I am going; I'm going to Field Pond.  A few moments later, past trees and trails, I turn into the small parking area that faces the pond and gaze out over the water.  Fog settles and adheres to everything, creating a gray, almost opaque blanket over the morning, and it is incredibly peaceful.

I don't stay long, perhaps a minute or two, because I really do have to get to work still.  I snap a couple of photos then get right back onto my path toward the rest of my day.  This is when the car takes over; it's autopilot from here on out, but I don't have any anxious knot in my stomach or to-do list racing through my brain when the car and I arrive at school, steering into the third pull-through space one row deep in the empty lot.

It does not matter what the rest of the day throws at me.  I've had my mindful moment, and, best of all, I've the pictures to prove it.