a foggy road

Tonight (this morning) I was driving home in the fog. My windows were frosty and I could only see out the front. The fog was so thick, I couldn't see more than 10 feet in front me. I knew my way, I wasn't scared. But I was alone. There wasn't one car, not one, driving along that road with me. Worse, there was no warm body in my car, sitting with me, keeping me company. I saw the other headlights, going in the other direction, back the way from which I had come. Many of them, together, lighting a way in the fog, in the dark. I could see the green lights before I knew there was an intersection, telling me to continue on. I could feel the bumps when I was drifting unknowingly into another lane. The street lights lit the fog, making it seem almost daylight, but I knew the darkness hung behind those well light and low hanging clouds. The fog thickened. My heart did not race, my adrenaline did not speed up. There was no thrill, no fear, no anticipation. I was unseen, unseeable, unseeing. I came out of the fog and could finally see the road in front of me, but it was a road I knew and I didn't want to go where it was headed. I had to drive it though, because at the end was the resting place necessitated by tomorrow's drive. Tomorrow's drive would be much the same as today's. Maybe not seeing the road was easier. The fog may lift, the road still only heads in one direction for me. I can't turn this car around and drive with those headed back that way. I stopped the car. I turned off the engine. Two tears fell. Did I shed those tears or was that someone else? I locked the car, headed into the house, and now I wonder, will I ever be more than that lone pair of unidentifiable headlights headed in the opposite direction? Will I ever be seen...