left my name

Each morning i wake up and sit on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The weather has continued it's humdrum westcoast drizzle. The lake has a low fog hanging over it in the morning. Rain drizzles on my legs.

It reminds me of home. My home. Here on the westcoast. Growing up here you learn to love the rain. The fall is colourful. The rich autumn leaves brightening the grey skies. The smell of wetness and leaves falling in a mildewy pile.

I remember walking to school as a child. Wet and cold in the morning. Sitting in wet socks in class. Shoes drying in the cloakroom. Waiting to get wet again at recess. And often, the skies opening in the afternoon to brief moments of sunshine. Raincoats thrown astray in the playground as we embraced the warm sun. And were dry for a few brief hours till the clouds returned in the evening.

There are two herons who visit the dock outside my condo every morning. I iamgine them as husband and wife. Sometimes they squabble. One flies away briefly, angrily chirping, through the mist. But, he always returns. She waits patiently. Diving for the occassional trout. Then they sit side by side. Enjoying each other. Waiting for the fog to lift. Flying off together.