Early Morning Fog

Early morning across North America, rush, rush, rush, out the door we go. Early in the morning for me, like many others is 5 am. It used to be 4. Half in a fog I sit up to the all familiar snap, crackle, pop of my knees and back. Ahh, the uneasy realization that I have to go to work. My ride is much less time consuming now that I have moved closer to the city. I cut 120 miles off the round trip to work and home. I cut another few hundred off after I stopped crossing the big river for hockey. That’s the St Lawrence River that separates New York and Ontario. I do miss it though it was a long drive some nights. I got the feel for what morning commutes are in Toronto. Go to the bus stop, ride to the train station, and ride the train into downtown Toronto, and you’re still not where you need to go. Other places down south, it’s driving to a work site. Some mornings I’ve had to find my way to an airport, this can be a trip on its own. Everyone has something to do to get going in the morning. My wife always has coffee ready for me when I leave from home. Some days its snow hazards, some mornings it’s a heat wave, maybe a rainstorm, but it doesn’t matter. It’s what you do. There are college kids learning the meaning of getting up early – on their own. You got to get to class on time. Somewhere there are still hockey players hitting the ice early before classes even begin, joggers running the roads for exercise. I see them while I’m sipping my coffee and looking desperately for a donut shop on the horizon. Maybe they’re really just running to the donut shop, and forgot to get in their car, catch the train, or make flight arraignments. Still, I do love the early morning once I am able to get going. I wait for the fog to clear out of my head and wonder: is Drury really a NY Ranger now, or did I just image that? I slap the dashboard above the radio a few times; maybe the radio is messed up. Is the radio even on?