The Fog Comes In…

I looked outside this morning, and it’s foggy. I love it! Maybe because fog takes me back to my little valley home, and memories of ghostly stark and barren peach trees out back; those shrouded walks to school where I heard and saw nothing but my feet, one step in front of the other, and marveled how a world of white silence engulfed me, and I could be alone and happy, without anyone wondering what was wrong with me. Or, maybe I am transported to those times spent in foggy San Francisco, wandering about in a private adventure, soaking in as much art, music, and counter culture as I possibly could. Then again, perhaps I simply appreciate the stillness and romance fog brings to my soul. And my one fantasy. 

I’ve wondered over the years why I am not one given to fantasies. I understand everyone has them. Everyone, aside from me. I’ve only ever had one, and it’s been mine since I was in my early twenties. And I gather from those I’ve told about it, it’s not very exciting, nor worthy of much more than a casual “hmmm”.

It is night, very cold and foggy. I am riding a ferry, outside on the deck, cloaked in a floor length, black, hooded cape (I believe I look rather romantic and just a bit gothic); the ferry is approaching the end of its crossing, and I’m straining to see if he’s there. Yes, the object of all my longing and desire is supposed to be waiting for me at the other side of wherever I’ve been. And as we come within view of the dock, my heart leaps for joy, because I see him, leaning against a lamp post, wearing an overcoat and a hat, searching the distance for the ferry and its lone passenger…me. As the boat closes in on its destination, we see each other, and ….that’s the end of it. My mind stops at that juncture, and through the years, I’ve never been able to force it any further. I admit, what a lame ending!

Maybe when I experience a foggy day, the old fantasy is triggered, and I have hope it will be realized. Imagine finishing something left with so much possibility in real life. It could happen. Or not. 

In the meantime, if this is going to work, I need a black cloak, a passenger ferry, and better eyesight. Since I live in a valley without anything more than a couple rivers that have plenty of bridges to get from one side to the other, a temperate year round climate, and I already wear glasses; I know there are challenges ahead. 

But really, what good is a fantasy if there aren’t a few obstacles in the way? And I have the fog, so I am part way there, already. The rest should be a cinch!

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About Valleygrail

Native Californian by birth, Pacific Northwesterner by choice. Jack of all trades, master of none; always wishing I could stick with just one thing long enough to become expert. But then what about all those things left unattended? See? Not possible. I love life, my family, friends, a good book, Irish music, rain, fog, and a pint of Guinness. It's a good journey, and sharing with companions makes it even better. Thanks for being with me as I embrace it and you!
This entry was posted in Aging, Baby Boomers, Fantasies, Fog, Life Journey, Memories, Romance and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to The Fog Comes In…

  1. TalkaholicMe says:

    Your post reminded me of The Fog Movie.. I love foggy foggy

  2. Keith says:

    I am so delighted you are blogging again.

  3. Everyone needs a good fantasy now and then. And to cloak it in fog… how appropriate. 🙂 –Curt

  4. beeblu says:

    The perfect atmosphere for writing!

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