The fog lifted
Lately Ive found myself thinking a lot about my wife, Sarah Whitaker, and the way her life runs. It all feels rather dull day after day, the same routine. She does have a family: me, Edward, and our two lads, Mike and Sam, both top of their class at school.
She was up before dawn, the steady tick of the bedroom clock echoing in the quiet. Outside the sky was just beginning to lighten. Yet sleep slipped away; she lay there, thoughts already turning over the day ahead.
Now Ill get up and the day will go just like any other, full of chores, she thought. Ill milk Daisy the cow, feed her and herd her back, then tend the other livestock. After that Ill have to make breakfast for you and the boys, rouse them, get the boys to school and you off to work. Oh, and I must hill the potatoes today, or theyll get out of hand. Time to grab the spade and head to the garden.
Sarah rose and dove into the housework, her mind churning:
First I need to do the laundry, then sweep the patio and pull the weeds I havent tidied that area in ages. My life is so boring, all work and no play The day has begun.
Edward, get up, its time, she nudged me gently, but I was still half asleep.
Alright, I murmured, rolling onto my back.
Boys, wake up, time for breakfast and school. Mike, dont turn your back on me youll have to get up anyway. Whos going to take you to school if not me? You lazy lot, you should be in bed earlier, she scolded in a tone that was firm but not angry. Little Sam sprang up at once, light on his feet, while Mike stretched lazily.
With the boys sent off, she turned to the washing, hanging the clean laundry out on the patio. Something weighed on her mood today, a vague sadness she couldnt pin down, though shed been feeling uneasy about her life of late.
She started pulling the weeds when Nadine Clarke, the neighbour from next door, breezed into the yard. Nadine is a lively, nononsense sort, always bustling about and quick to shout, her voice carrying as far as the Whitaker garden.
Nadine, whats all the fuss about last night? Sarah asked.
Oh, thatsmy brother Fred showed up, more like crawled back home. Id been waiting all evening for him to move a heavy chest in the loft. I told him in the morning, but he ignored meThen he went off to see Ignatius, you know, the one always at the pub, always with a dram of gin. Good for you, your Edward never drinks, Ive never seen him tipsy, Nadine complained.
Nadine envied Sarahs quiet, orderly household, free from the clatter that seemed to follow her own. Seeing her neighbours downcast face, she asked:
Sarah, why the long face? You look like youve lost your smile.
Sarah sighed, settling on the garden bench beside her.
I dont know, Nadine. Somethings just heavy on me. It feels like all the interesting life passes me by, that the exciting things happen elsewhere, and other folks seem to have far richer, happier lives. I crave something different, not a fairytale, but at least something like the neighbours who seem to have it all.
Nadine, ever the chatty one, replied, Oh, Sarah, you have it easy. Everythings smooth as silk for you, quiet and calm. What more could you want?
Sarah muttered, Look at Marilyn Clarke. Her husband Victor is dashing, theyre always out together, holding hands, kissing in public. Ive seen it a dozen times. Marilyn works as a senior accountant, dresses nicely its like a storybook. Victor drives a fancy car, brings roses from London for her birthday. Hes always off on trips. Marilyns life isnt dull at all.
Nah, youve got someone to be jealous of now, Nadine interjected. You sit at home, not working, so you dont see the real picture. Victors a proper rotter, a womaniser. He wont let a skirt pass without a wink. Marilyn knows that, so she buys new clothes, puts on a nice front for him. At home hes like a March cat loves her when the neighbours are watching, but can be cruel behind closed doors. Hell drive out to the city, where other women and even young girls wait.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. How do you know all that, Nadine? Who can say what he does in the city? Maybe its all workrelated.
Nadine laughed, Work, of course! My sister works at the farm next to us, she hears all the gossip. She told me Marilyn once covered up bruises with concealer. She lives in constant fear that Victor might leave or hit her. You call it a fairytale, but who needs that?
After a pause, Sarah continued, Alright, if thats the case, I shouldnt envy Marilyn. What about Tamara Lewis? Her husband Andrew never seems to love her. Hes obsessed with his son, doesnt let her work, does all the chores himself. He even whisks her away to the seaside resort now and then. Hes a devoted husband, but his son is ill, so theyre always at the clinic. Still, Tamaras life looks perfect, while mine feels bland.
Nadine shook her head, Youre not seeing the whole picture, Sarah. Andrews not a drinker, but his son is frail. Their older boy, Victor, is very thin, still stuck in primary school, and his health is poor. They get a free healthspa ticket for him, and they travel to the resort for his treatment. Thats not a holiday for fun.
Sarah sighed, Maybe youre right, Nadine. Ive only heard snippets from the farm gossip, from Oksana, who works there and spreads rumours like wildfire. Shes quick with a story.
Nadine smirked, Exactly. You stay at home, shop, and thats it. You never sit by the village well and chat about life. Edward has even built a well for us, filled it, and youve got a good bloke as a husband. Perhaps youre just bored, dreaming of a life youve never actually seen.
Sarah laughed weakly, Maybe Im just jealous of Kate Morgan. Shes stunning, turns heads wherever she goes. Men from the neighbouring village ride up on motorbikes, bring her gifts. Just the other Sunday I saw her leaving the shop, a bouquet of flowers and a big box of chocolates in her hands, smiling as Ilya from the next village told her hed brought them.
Nadine chuckled, Kates a beauty, thats for sure. Rumour has it even the village councils chairman slips away to see her in secret. If his wife finds out, shell have his hair shorn off, they say.
Sarah replied, She lives a lively life, but shes got a few more birthdays on her, thirtyfive now. Suitors come on bikes and in cars, shower her with presents, yet no ones asked her to settle down. Time goes by, youth fades, and shes still single.
Sarah thought, I wonder if Kate ever feels lonely, crying into her pillow at night, unseen by anyone.
Nadine nodded, Perhaps. Not all those who look happy are truly content. Looks like that fog has been clouding my eyes.
The neighbours chatted a while longer, then Nadine hurried home. Sarah grabbed a spade and headed to the garden to hill the potatoes. The schoolchildren arrived, she fed them, milked Daisy after bringing her back from the pasture. I came home from the mill, had a bite, and the day slipped by in the usual quiet rhythm.
That night, sleep eluded Sarah. When she finally drifted off, she dreamed of her late grandmother, Evelyn Whitaker, appearing out of the mist.
Sarah dear, dont curse God, dont moan about your lot, the old woman whispered. Trials are sent to us in measure, and youve had few of them. Live your life as it is
The apparition faded like morning fog. Sarah awoke feeling ashamed of the complaints shed made, the selfpity, the envy of others happiness.
Dawn was breaking. She lay in bed as I snored softly, the clock ticking. She slipped on her shawl and stepped onto the porch. The fog was lifting, dew glistening on the grass, the day promising fine weather.
How wonderful life is, she thought, smiling. All is well Ive spent so long living in a haze, eyeing others with envy, trying on their lives in my mind. I never really knew how people truly lived. Dreaming of neighbours happiness, I missed the blessings already in my own life. My loving husband Edward, who never hurts me; our brilliant boys, excelling at school; the small worries I fretted over are nothing. How good it is that the fog has cleared.
She went back inside, shed the shawl, peeked into the childrens room, smoothing the blanket over Mike. Gradually she gathered herself, and everything fell back into place. Life goes on.
