At the moment of this writing, I’m sitting on our couch. Lulu Belle is lying down next to me, happily making “Nook, nook” noises as she chews the ever loving bejeezus out of her pacifier. The day is early, earlier than I prefer to see it, but in a bid to get Action Girl some badly needed sleep, I’m taking over as the first shift warden for our two month old and have moved her to the living room. As she wiggles away, I’m watching thick rolls of fog out side, moving through the neighborhood, making my already tired vision seem that much blurrier… but that’s okay.
I have fond feelings for fog. When I was a kid, I spent as much of the summer as possible at the family camp in Maine. We lived in New Hampshire and though it got foggy there too, it was mostly down in the swamps, which rather lacks romance… unless you’re an amphibian, I suppose. When we were in Maine, you could hear the fog horn distantly blowing from the lighthouse off shore. You had the sounds of sea gulls, hidden from view, wheeling in unseen air. The fog, like thick, wet bats of cotton would visibly roll down the streets and cover everything in beads of water. To me, it was a big part of the experience of being on the coast and I loved it. Still do, really. I’m nostalgic by nature and today’s foggy morning takes me back to those times of my youth.
Action Girl… she has other feelings. To her, the mournful, far away call of the fog horn makes her stomach drop. She hates the fog. It makes things harder than they have to be. It makes her day longer and means that she’ll be that much more exhausted when she gets home. You see, Action Girl is a sea captain. She dives rather large vessels for a living and to her, a day of fog means a day of driving by radar, never taking your eyes off the bow and watching out for knuckle headed bozos in other boats who don’t know what they are doing. Judging by the stories she has told me over the years, the bay isn’t short of knuckle headed bozos.
Her feelings about fog have become seared into her being. After visiting at a house not too far away last night, I decided to take the coastal route home, rather than through the village. It was dark out and the tide was in and I was hoping to take a peek at the breakers on the shore. I figured, “Hey, we live on the coast, we might as well enjoy it form time to time”. As we came around to the shore road, the picture was one of quintessential Maine. Rough rock faces were being slammed by towering white waves in an endless fight between land and ocean as lobster buoys bobbed some distance off and a bell buoy could be heard clanging in the distance. The air was warm and the whole scene was shrouded in fog. I immediately smiled and was happy we went this way, then I heard the groan from the passenger seat. Sitting next to me, Action Girl looked out at the exact same scene. What I saw as an oil painting waiting to happen, to her looked like a lot of work.
In just a few days now, Action Girl will be going back to work after a long hiatus following her pregnancy and birth of Lulu Belle. It’s been ages since she’s had to deal with fog and now it looms large in her mind. It’s just another factor that makes her job that much harder, and I sympathize.
As I look up now, the sun is shining warmly and the fog is quickly burning away. The warning horn from the nearest lighthouse is still blowing, but will stop soon. By the time she gets up today, I’ll be on my second cup of coffee and Lulu Belle will be on her third diaper, but the fog monster will be gone and I won’t mention it to her. She has enough stress in her life.
Secretly though, I’ll continue to enjoy the sight when it comes. It’s part of living in Maine and thus, part of why we’re here. I’m just glad that I don’t have to drive in it too. Sorry, Action Girl.