In a Fog

My son walks around in a teenage fog.

Like most boys his age, he focuses on girls, music, MSN, television and clothes - not necessarily in that order. Inside of my own head, I see him looking something like this.

It doesn't seem all that long ago that he was preoccupied with Sesame Street, Lego, riding his bike and bedtime stories, but those days are long gone, along with the pudgy little hand that used to hold mine when we crossed the street.

I started flipping through his baby book earlier today and found the unread letters that I used to write to him and his brother on each of their first few birthdays. They're unread by my boys because I had decided at the time, that they would be a gift to my sons when they get married.

Here are just a few excerpts from some letters to Alex:

Second Birthday:

• You take great pleasure in screaming at the top of your lungs just so you can then cover up your own mouth with your hand, and say "Don't do dat!"

Third Birthday:

• One time you watched as Jeffrey was having a hard time putting on his shirt. It kept tangling and bunching up around his neck. Finally he threw it down in frustration saying "dumb shirt!" You picked it up for him, put your hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eyes, and offered "It's not a dumb shirt. It just wants to hug you."

Fourth Birthday:

• You spent some time learning about rhyming words this year, and seemingly had it all figured out. One day, while rhyming was still fresh in your head, you went up to Jeffrey's grade one teacher, Mrs. Pattenden, and informed her that 'car crash' rhymed with 'teacher'. She smiled and told you that 'car crash' does not rhyme with 'teacher', and suggested you try again. So you did. "Accident and Pattenden." Couldn't really argue with you there.

Fifth Birthday:

• One day you stood in the front hallway opening the front door widely, banging it into the opened bathroom door. You were told to stop doing this, with the explanation that you'd make a dent in one of the doors. You shrugged, continued smashing them together and commented that if you made a dent in the door, all we had to do was call the dentist.

• You have a peculiar habit of taking your shoes and socks off the moment you come into the house. When asked why, a simple answer followed. "To do my fluffies." which was simply removing the sock-fluff that has accumulated between your toes.

Sixth Birthday:

• You learned a few lessons about finances this year, when much of what you wanted to buy on different occasions was met with a chorus of "Sorry Alex, that's just too expensive." Sometime later, at the school book fair you found a colourful little car that you wanted. Its parts were actually made out of usable crayon pieces. You were fully aware that it was a car, but I wasn't sure if you knew it was also a set of crayons. I asked you if you knew what it was and you said "Sure, it's a car." I agreed, and then asked if you knew what else it was. Your shoulders sagged and your head dropped as you groaned "Ohhh,.... expensive?"

• This holiday season, you took to singing and renaming The Dreidel Song. "Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of clay - Hey! Why don't they just call it a claydel?"

• At swimming lessons, you were reluctant to put your face in the water, but this didn't keep you from handing out advice to one of your pals who didn't want to open his eyes under water. "Just keep them closed and when you hear BUMP, that's when you stop."

• You had an ongoing habit of biting your brother when frustrated, and after much discussion, there was yet another bite. You lost your chance at watching TV for the day because of this. You thought that over for a bit, and said "I wish I had a 'rewind button' so that I could undo biting Jeffrey." I suggested that you could use your 'pause button' to stop and think about things before doing them. You dismissed the conversation with a sigh, stating "I should just have a 'fast-forward' button to get past this day."

I could go on, but if Alex reads them all here, he'll have nothing interesting to do on his wedding night...

Somewhere along the way, Alex traded in his Lego for a guitar and found a new focus - that of a serious musician. He's still a goof in most every aspect of his life, but he takes his guitar very seriously. I have tremendous admiration and pride for the way he spends hours working on, and learning new pieces. I have little doubt that he will find his life's path somewhere in music.

At seventeen, he still doesn't see around most corners with clarity, he thinks he knows everything, and he throws outspoken viewpoints at you just for shock value. But he's still funny, cute, talented and lovable, and he'll always be my baby.

Alex - without the fog.

Alex isn't the only one who walks around in a fog. One morning a couple of weeks back, I could scarcely see the houses across the street. I decided to wander around the park and take a few shots. Click on the photos if you'd like to see them enlarged.

This is the view that greeted me as I entered the park at the bottom of my street. The fog that had settled in, allowed the leaves in the foreground to appear illuminated.

Just off to my left, this path fades into the haze.

In the lake, a single red leaf floats upon still water, which mirrors its image.



Around the bend, at my favourite section of the lake, the fog envelops the trees, casting a misty reflection.


Another day, this same area is alive with colour.


The same grouping of trees, taken from behind.


After a rain, water droplets collect on some leaves.