I was out walking to clear my head, or to find peace, or to have a break from the chaos around me. I had a lot on my mind and, well, as they say solvitur ambulando.
He was in the hospital. Had been for three weeks. He was not doing well, refusing either to get worse or better. The options for tomorrow were bad and bad. Prioritizing his health denied his freedom and autonomy. Respecting his wishes ensured an agonizing end, for everybody, and put others at risk. There was no good solution, just versions of bad. All made worse by an inversion of traditional roles. I needed to grab my camera and go for a walk. The afternoon made manifest the murkiness of my own thoughts.
I walked for miles that afternoon. By the time I arrived back at the house, I had decided on a way forward. Lurking somewhere in the recesses of my mind, however, was the fear that this would go all wrong. The fog obscured both the landscape that afternoon and the particular contours of my fear. Now four months later, the fog has cleared, revealing my fears.
