95 Hours of Fog

Imagine living in a world where as soon as you wake up and look out your window... all you can see is dense fog... Like living in Maine in some quaint harbor fishing village. Trying to see through the early morning haze when the only people awake are those fishermen at 5am about ready to depart the docks. You trip over your feet it is so foggy.

Ever since I got the call at 5:58am on Monday July 25th and the minutes thereafter - I have been standing in that dense fog. I can't see, I don't know which direction to go (or which direction is up), and I am surely tripping over my feet. The fog is so thick that I can feel the moisture as I breathe in... or maybe those are just the tears falling into my mouth...

The thing about fog - especially when it is that dense... it can be kind of a blanket. It is thicker then, "regular" air... it almost wraps around you and holds you tight. Now, that may be comforting... it may be constricting... to me - I don't know what it is other than fucking annoying. I don't want to be held. I don't want to be smothered. Or do I? I guess that is why they call it fog. It clouds your vision.

Therefore - not knowing what I want... or which direction to go... I speak to the local Old Salt on the dock. He is wrapping netting and securing his gear. he tells me that in time - the fog lifts... that as the dawn of each day gets warmer and warmer, it gets clearer. The gulls will come in and squawk and will distract you and before you know it - the heavy blanket around you and the blurry vision goes away. He continues to tell me that even after the dense fog lifts... that my skin will still be moist and it will take me a bit to dry out.

My mind rushes to the song by Jordin Sparks... No Air:
"Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air"
"Can't live, can't breathe with no air"
"That's how I feel whenever you ain't there"
"There's no air, no air"
"Got me out here in the water so deep"
"Tell me how you gonna be without me"
"If you aint here, I just can't breathe"
"There's no air.... no air"

I must have been caught in thought forever - I don't blink for what seems like an hour... I look up and the Old Salt is under way heading out past the breakwaters with a cloud of gulls flying over his boat.

Fog.... amazing how it just clouds everything. Just on the other side of it - the unknown. The unknown doesn't scare me as it does for most people. I embrace it actually... it was how I was raised. It is the wait to get to the other side to find out what the answers are. I have a bit of an impatience issue it seems. Again - it was how I was raised. I only want to be kept in the loop - to know what steps are being taken. But the fog gets in the way and I can't see.

The sickness, sorrow and angst that consumed my mother in the last few months has been on my mind and has had me walking around like a zombie. I blockaded myself off from the world and hid behind that fog. Maybe that is why Old Salt's are viewed as cranky - they just need time to themselves to heal from a bad days worth of fishing.

Yet somewhere - out in the distance - along the breakwaters - there is hope. A beacon of light that shines for all the mariners to see... it gives them a path to follow for their return trip. Although it is battered and beaten from the weather... it stands firm and proud. It has been there forever and will continue to stand to guide those who need it.

I am hoping my fog lifts soon... I am hoping that time will heal and my skin will dry off. I will look up to the sky and look at the gulls and tell them.... as long as you don't shit on me... I'll be ok.