Is it foggy there? Same here.

Wade has two game cameras aimed at a pile of golden corn and crunchy acorns ready for critters, but I’d be surprised if anything ventures out of the woods this week. Surely, it’s not just me who’s ready to hide under a rock rather than face the time change, Halloween candy hangovers, and an election week during a pandemic.

Early last week, I navigated the morning fog and country roads so that I may quietly cast my ballot. The boys and I stood between a nun and her dangling rosary and a first-timer Snapchatting his every experience at the poll. I tried to smile at both, but masks make for squinty, awkward nods reminiscent of my surgical nurse days. Sterile, but not cold. Distanced, but neighborly.

It seems like we’re all just trying to operate in autumn’s dense fog. Being so close to the river, morning drives are nerve-racking. I pull to the stops, roll down my windows, and have everyone in the vehicle hold their breath for the chance and prayer to hear oncoming vehicles. How very 2020! It’s impossible to see what’s barreling down the pike.

But fog isn’t new, and it’s not forever. If we’re patient, the morning mist will dissipate with daylight. We’ll see our neighbor’s smile again and even hug strangers…maybe this will even include Democrats and Republicans. 

As I write this, it’s Election Day. Other than prayers for America, I can’t help but consider the discounted Halloween costumes at the store. And Wade’s face as he scrolls through the game camera’s photos of a few well fed squirrels and Big Foot or the Easter Bunny.  

**Feature photo by Todd Trapani on Unsplash

Author: Neena

Neena is a Kentucky wife, mother, and beekeeper. Her first novel, THE BIRD AND THE BEES, is a Christian contemporary romance available now. Visit her at

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