The fog was going away.

It had started to come in almost from the beginning;
She could not remember now a time when it was not coming in.
It had come in under clouds, under the sun, under star-less and star-filled skies.

Over the water that matched the sky in its vastness,
Creeping, rolling, floating, streaming forward
The fog had come in

To the shore filled with rocks and sand,
To the sparse grass,
To the tall trees that were now the only ones that had lived in clear air.

The fog had come in from no one knew where
Blowing into the roads,
Swirling around lamp posts,
Making dogs howl
And children cry.

The fog had come in,
Had crawled up the walls,
Had entered through open windows and through cracks under locked doors.

The fog had come
And it had found her.

She had been asleep, and the fog had seen her first.
She had been dreaming, in peace and safety,
When it had slinked up the bed posts, over the comforter, and under the blankets
To nestle under her chin, to wrap around her head, to intertwine with her fingers.
She had been sleeping in wellness when it had come in to take her.

And it did. It made its home. It stopped moving onward.
The fog had come to take her and now it held her.
Now the fog was in her. Now the fog was her.

Her eyes had been dimmed.
Her mind had been slowed.
Her will had been maimed.
Her name had lost its meaning.

Unawares she had let it in
And now there was no getting it out.

The first day passed, and then the second.
It was a week and then it was a lifetime.

The sun faded.
The air didn’t cool.
The once-brilliant moon dulled into nothing more than a nightlight.

The fog had left the water and the sky and the beach and the grass and the trees and the streets and the buildings and the children
To fill her life to the fullest,
To seep out of every pore,
And to fill every sight.

In and out she kept breathing
And in and out the fog went…
And came.

(Stay tuned for Part 2.)