Fearless

A storm blew through today. The thunder rumbled for two hours before it actually rolled in. The lightning hissed and kept coming closer to the house. I saw a flash right outside of my window and jumped as my breath swiftly departed my lungs. Instantly, a boom so loud, my dishes vibrated on the shelves. My son came in terrified and I had one chance to pull it together, for his sake.

We sat in a quiet spot with no windows. While the storm tried to get us, I made a grocery shopping list with him. In between moments of supplies for s’mores and coffee my mind wondered….

When did I become so fearful?

In the flash of another lightning bolt, I had my answer. The moment my daughter had been placed in my arms.

One could ask, is it fear or being protective. I think it’s both. I have even been accused of being overprotective. Yeah, well, they’re my kids.

I remember a time in my life when I had no fear. In high school we would sneak out of Missy’s house in the dark of night, with or without a moon to guide us. We would walk about a half mile up the road to the creaky old wooden bridge. Smoking cigarettes and telling stories we would stay out there in the dark for hours.

If a car should happen to drive by, we would dive into the ditch and laugh so hard we were sure the driver could hear us. Do you know what it looks like right before the first rays of the new day rise? I do. It would be time to walk home and sneak back in.

I used to drive real fast. Climb trees to the point where the branches would bend and could not support me anymore. I jumped of the pier into the rough seas of Lake Michigan once. I even slept on the beach by myself, waiting for that light the sky makes right before the first rays of a new day.

I live near three rickety bridges, two of which are wooden.  An easy walk in under fifteen minutes. Maybe I should buy a pack of Marlboros and sneak out. Walk down there, smoke and remember my less fearful days. Stay until the moment when the sky glows this shade of yellow so pale you find yourself asking every time,

“Am I seeing the start of a new day, or are my eyes playing tricks on me.”

I can then walk home and sneak back in. Or in my case just use my key.