I used to date a guy who loved to use the word FOG. It wasn't hard to understand if you were around us very long. As soon as he walked in the door or vice versa, we were in a "fog"....The Pheromone Fog, as it were. We could stay in the fog for hours! I liked it in the fog. It was nice. And well....foggy.
Then the fog lifted and we moved on.
He calls periodically to tell me about fog with his new girlfriend(s). I have to laugh.
Apparently his fog moves from woman to woman.
But it is nice we have remained good friends. He knows me well.
There was something organic about that fog.
A few months ago he called precisely at the moment I was going through a very rough emotional patch with someone close to me. "How are ya? Had you on my mind. Thought I'd check."
And then a while back I had a vibe and the urge to write him an email.
"Just thinking of you today. Are you OK? How have you been?"
He replied almost immediately, "As usual, your intuition is right on the mark.. My mother died suddenly of an aneurysm this morning."
My drive through the city last week reminded me of him and that romantic weather of ours. I never quite had that with another soul. Nor the hours of simply sitting and listening to music by a fire or on a blanket outside, singing harmonies to rock 'n roll never before heard by man and dancing without a word. There was never any distance in the reach. Never a misunderstanding in the look. Fog. Oh. It's a good thing.
Even when we parted ways - cause it was just time - there was no anger. Made me wonder if all that time spent in the presence of silence and stillness and.....just being....really does forge connections that are eternal, no matter how far the fog drifts.
About that time I made a left turn