Fog with Butterflies

 

This Fog was much more than a fog today, as they often are. This fog was a catalyst for an odd series of events which made the world a little warmer, as any good fog should do. 

I hadn't seen her since I had left for my adventure overseas. It had been a month and a bit. A month of waiting, a month of thinking, a month of feeling, a month of dreaming. I was nervous, of course. 

We grabbed our drinks (as we do) and walked to a bench alongside a greenway. We chatted like we always did. The conversation was lively, I was sipping my fog and laughing at equal intervals. I had finished my fog realizing I had tasted none of it, but I didn't care. I was with her, and that was all I wanted. We walked back to her house and said goodbye. I turned around, smiled, and began thinking of the next time I'd get to see her. This is one of my favourite homeostatic states. 

I smiled to myself as I walked away, the breeze and the sky, the world made me perfectly content. With every step I took, the weight of the ground brought me back from the clouds. My jacket became heavy once again. I patted myself down looking for my earbuds - only to realize I was no longer in possession of my 'hip' fanny pack. After a little thought, I realized where I went wrong - I took it off at the bench where we sat and simply walked away without it! How silly of me, I thought to myself, now treating myself with a little more love than I had in years prior. I calmly walked back. 

When I got to the bench, there were two cyclists who had taken a seat. I asked sheepishly if they had seen my fanny pack, to which they both replied 'no'. I looked around a bit and made a few passes, but alas - my pack had gone. Someone must have taken it. It stung a bit, knowing how little I had been gone for and how quickly it must have been stolen in my absence. The world got darker for a few minutes as my heart beat steadily in my chest. Pump-pump-pump; a familiar anxiety of the uncontrollable. I walked back to the bus stop slowly and sat with myself as I waited. I forgave myself, another practice which was new to me, and suddenly I felt a little better. I chuckled to myself (like a crazy bus stop person, no doubt) that she was so delightfully distracting I could have left anything behind. That made me happy. 

A few hours had passed and I felt better. I had a plan on how to replace my keys, a process on how to retrieve my medication, and already calculated how much it would cost to replace my earbuds. A plan was made. But, I got a DM over Instagram... someone had found my pack and wanted to return it to me. How? I had no information in there... except for my name and the UBC symbol on my keys. Thank goodness I had been an egomaniac and put 'UBC Psychology' on my Instagram Bio. 

I met him the next day at a Starbucks and offered him money, which he wouldn't take. He only said that when I was presented with another situation where I could be kind to someone, I should take it. The world had become a little nicer, on that damp Wednesday morning. I once again walked back to the bus, my smile a little more persistent, and the warmth a little deeper. 

6/10 Fog. (It could have tasted like anything, I'm afraid.)






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