The Fog

By Jay Fraga

oldschool

Jay, 1982

The fog rolls in without notice. Some days, you wake up and it is there. On others, you are lulled into a false sense of security; you forget that it lurks, waiting to cover you in its confusion, emptiness, and uncertainty.

Yesterday was good. Today, I woke up and the fog was there. Simple tasks became monumental ones. Normal thought process became labored. This weekend, I called my wife on her cell phone when I heard her car start up in the driveway and start to pull out. I was upset and asked her why she didn’t say goodbye to any of us. She said, “Jay, I just gave you a kiss a minute and a half ago and said, “See you later”.” Hearing that and not being able to remember even a sliver of the experience sucked every ounce of air out of the room.

You try to take experiences like that and shove them far away someplace. You try to marginalize them and tell yourself that they don’t matter; that they’ll pass. But, they are scary. They make you wonder. Where you once felt strong and unbeatable, those experiences make you feel weak. I will turn 41 in three months and I’m not quite sure what is happening to me.

Ray Bradbury, “The Foghorn”:

“One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, “We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I’ll make one. I’ll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I’ll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I’ll make a sound that’s so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I’ll make me a sound and an apparatus and they’ll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.”


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