Yesterday, while driving to work (which is something I don't often do; I usually take the bus), it was extremely foggy. The fog was so dense, I could only see one car in front of me-- if I was lucky. But there's something beautiful and mysterious about fog, albeit dangerous to drive in. It shrouds the things we're so used to seeing.

I was nearing work, passing the 22nd street on-ramp on I-64E when the sun came into view. Obstructed by the fog, it appeared to be flattened. It looked two dimensional, dimmed. Not five seconds later, the fog had completely cleared, and there stood the city, shining in brilliant shades of pink, orange, and yellow. It was the most gorgeous view of Louisville's skyline I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. I couldn't keep the "wow" from falling out of my mouth. It filled me with this feeling that I can't place-- is it nostalgia? For something so fantastic and unlike any sunrise I've ever seen, that wouldn't make much sense... but I could swear that's what it was.

I'm having trouble placing a lot of feelings lately. I thought I knew what I wanted, but as I'm closing in on the end of the year and the time I should have this decision made, I'm having doubts.