Fog and Comprehension

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For the third time this week I travel the distance from the parking lot to Pavilions A and B to be seen by Stanford medical staff. As I walk through the thick morning fog, I wish my ailments were not so interesting. 

I fall in behind a tiny Asian woman with snow-white hair.  She is flanked by her balding sons. Each has a hand on her walker. They talk to her and I cannot understand anything they are saying. 

To my right, a two-year-old sits on a high wall while her young mother ties her bright red sneakers.  The little girl’s short dark curls bounce, telegraphing her impatience.

By the time the son on the left flank opens the door for his mother, the 2 year-old, walking atop the wall, has lapped all of us. Her mother insists on holding her daughter’s hand.  The little girl is annoyed by the restraint of handholding, but not enough to subdue her joyful stomping. Her sweater matches her sneakers—-bright red, alive like her curls. 

While we are waiting for the sons and their mother to move inside, I smile at the little girl and at her mother.  The girl’s mother, who also has dark hair and curls, smiles at me.  I want to tell her how delightfully she has matched her daughter’s clothing with her personality, but the mother’s nod has politely informed me, “I do not understand English.”

Even under the canopy that covers the entrance way, the fog is thick. The young woman and I gaze at her daughter, who continues to stomp and stretch her mother’s arm to its limit. Then, as a unit, the mother and I turn to watch the balding sons gently guide the tiny Asian woman and her walker through the heavy glass doors. Even the two year old pauses to look. The two men manage to get their mother through portal before the doors close and bulldoze her, with her walker, into oblivion. The watchful, curly-haired mother and I exchange expressions of relief. Before I myself pass through the glass doors, I send my fellow observer a glance of farewell and receive a warm smile of acknowledgment in return. Despite the fog, we have understood each other well enough.

Julia ClineComment