Are You Always Afraid To See What the Fog Hides?

Sometimes our greatest fears are revealed when the fog is lifted

Sea fog isn’t uncommon on the southern coast in autumn, so waking up to an invisible ground in November was no surprise. Like snow, but without the chill, weight, or length of stay, fog brings quiet and peace to our morning.

Driving away from a nightmare

One night decades ago, my surroundings were kept secret from me by a thick, heavy fog.

For two-thirds of my drive, I couldn’t see a foot in any direction around the car; I felt like we were alone. My baby pressed up against my bladder, which was anything but comfortable. We pulled off at a Mobile Station and ate peanut butter and banana sandwiches in the car.

My son Neal, a year and a half old, sat in the front seat with me and danced to country music on the radio. It was a change of pace because my husband wouldn’t let me listen to it when I was around him, which was all the time. We drove until 6 pm, and driving in that miserable fog combined with the rain that started after dark was impossible; I might as well have driven blindfolded.

Steering through cream soup

The endless fog continued, and radio stations kept talking about the danger of ‘dense fog.’ I could see cars before I could see their lights. Fog wrapped itself around our car as though the air was alive and tired of being unseen. It pulsed and moved in waves as headlights attempted to push it to the sides. Wet air particles refused to give up and clung to beams of light, imprisoning all vehicle occupants in their capsules on wheels.

We pulled into a Comfort Inn at the top of a mountain hill in Clearfield, PA. I thought staying in Clearfield would be good luck after driving through fog all day. I figured I might as well pamper myself since we had eaten food from the grocery store and not eaten out.

We got the suite with a queen size bed for $69, only $1.50 more than our room the night before, and it included a continental breakfast. Everything was new and plush. Our room was a treat, with a shower and tub in the bathroom and a Jacuzzi by the bed; I thought it was posh. We feasted on soup and crackers; I looked at the map and was happy to see how far we’d gotten.

A call of desperation

I called my family, and Mom instructed me to call my husband. “He is worried sick about you and hasn’t been able to do anything all day long, Joy.”

“But you don’t understand, Mom; please!” I begged.

“Well, you’re not going to stay here with us, Joy. You need to stay with your husband. We can’t take you in just because you can’t deal with him.”

My heart sank, but I wasn’t surprised. We called him, and I let Neal talk first. We talked for a long time. “I really want you guys to come home. Now that I know you’ll really leave, I’ll never drink again.”

I’d heard that several hundred times, a promise never fulfilled.

I called my Mom and told her we would head back to Connecticut the next morning.

She was thrilled; I was furious.

One luxurious night

We turned on the TV and climbed into the enormous Jacuzzi; I didn’t put much water in it, and Neal enjoyed it. It was a quiet, pleasant evening, just the two of us. I knew that we would soon return to familiar surroundings and routines, and I would be let down, defeated. The abuse would return in no time.

There were so many things I was eager to leave behind, actions that made my life utterly miserable. There’s something about the open road, places unknown; a completely new future; a new life altogether. We snuggled close in the oversized bed and slept well.

Return ticket

The next day was clear, and we got an early start. I was thankful for the fog the day before; it had enveloped the car like a cocoon, and I had no idea what the roads were like that we had spent the last few hours on the previous night. We were in the middle of the mountains, curving roads ended abruptly on either side, and the drop-offs were dizzying.

Driving so close to the edge made me nervous; some things were better left unknown. Neal was an excellent traveler, much better than I’d expected. I had bought him a plastic car and stickers the previous morning, so he kept himself busy.

I was famished by late morning, but now it was raining, and with the car lurching and throwing us all over the road, I wanted to get to Groton and not get stuck in a strange town for a week while my car was being repaired. I was terrified that the car would quit on us, so I pulled off at a Mobile Station at noon. The guy who worked there was brain dead but told me he would call the guy who tows cars in for him and that he had a beeper and would call him right back. Neal and I walked around and around the tiny, two-isle store.

I gave up waiting and got back on the interstate, and it started pouring, another wrench in our travel plans. I was, and this came as a big shocker to me since I cheered when I reached the Pennsylvania border the day before, happy and relieved to reach the Connecticut border. I’m certain it was only due to our circumstances and fear of breaking down on the side of the road in that weather. I was anything but happy to be back.

No housewarming party

We pulled into the driveway just in time to listen to Prairie Home Companion. “My shoulder is sore,” I told him. “My hands kept falling asleep from gripping the steering wheel so tight, either due to the fog or my fear that the car was going to die on us at any moment. My foot kept falling asleep from driving so many hours with my foot on the accelerator and being pregnant; my circulation isn’t very good.”

I had a new sense of self, a renewed assurance that I could do anything. We hadn’t left yet, but we knew where the starting blocks were.

It would be several more years before I was able to leave him.

Fog may quiet and hide what lies beneath; the things that may otherwise terrify us if we knew they were there. But once the fog lifts and we get clarity, somehow it can clear our minds, too, and catapult us into believing in hope and a future we can see.

If you’ve ever felt like you can’t find the escape hatch, know that one day, the fog will lift, everything will come into focus, and you’ll be able to find your way out.