A Moment

"217 is a parking lot," my wife says over the phone.

I'm sitting on the floor of my daughter's room, stroking her hair to get her to wake up.  "What?"

"217 is a parking lot.  One of the ladies just got here and she said there was an accident and the highway is backed up both ways.  You might want to go the back way."

"Okay," I say, "thanks."  Shea rolls over on her side and embraces my forearm, gives me a kiss on the back of my hand.  "Good morning," I say in my morning sing-song.

"Morning," she mumbles.  My mother has already arrived to watch her and is standing behind me. 

"I have to go to work, sweetheart.  You gonna be good for Noni?"

"Uh-huh," she says and turns her face into her pillow.  I kiss her on the cheek and again by her ear.  I don't get to snuggle this morning as is our usual custom.  We let Shea sleep in as she didn't feel well the night before and was restless all through the night.

I apologize to my mother for taking off so abruptly, but she says she understands and sets about gathering together an outfit for Shea.

As I drive south out of Oregon City toward Canby, I don't expect much from the commute.  As I press past Canby into Aurora, I begin to feel myself relax a bit.  I'm not driving freeways but small highways with open fields on both sides.  The morning fog is still sleeping in the folds of hills and in the low marshy places.  The trees are lit with yellow and orange.  I'm not consciously paying attention, but rather I am sipping my coffee and taking it all in without noticing as much. 

By the time I get to the west side of Newberg, I am agape at the beauty of the morning.   The fog has been reduced to small rivulets and fingers of smoke in the low lying areas and, amidst the jade evergreen, the leaves have taken on the flash and sparkle of amber, of ruby, and tiger's eye. 

The road is near empty, as is my coffee, and I cruise through the banking corners with what feels like balletic grace.  I'm on my way to those commitments that wearied me only days ago, but somehow, out here, out amongst the color and the open air, somewhere in the ambient hum of my engine, I find a space to breathe.  I find the space to relax, breathe deep and take in the crisp morning fog that must enter my lungs like smoke, or maybe, if I'm lucky, like spirit.