Fear

Earlier this week the wind was whipping around the corners of my house rattling windows and peeling paint. A crash woke me up in the middle of the night somewhere between three and four o’clock. Was a crazy man on the porch grating the springs attached to the old refrigerator? I can see how to someone they might be considered a fun toy. Through a cracked door to the living room I peered into the darkness on the third story porch. No sign of life. Had I left the door unlocked? Frantically I searched for light, carrying my phone flashlight I scampering into the kitchen, hissing, shedding light, and locking the door. I then realized the outer screen door was the real culpret, blowing open and slammed shut in the wind. Remembering as I stepped: I would hear the floorboards creak if a crazy person had intruded. Shaken, I finally stopped, prayed, put some classical music on, the windows rattled some more, I was lulled to sleep.

Typing now I am reminded how frightening it is to be alone on a windy night hearing sounds…near or far. But yet, harmless. I’m reminded of that time in high school when I went on a “quest” after reading a play, maybe Beowulf (?) and had to go sleep in a tent in the backyard for the night. I’m not sure what I meant to prove, I think I did it because I had to write a paper. As soon as the coy dogs began howling at the moon late at night I knew whatever I was “proving” wasn’t worth it the paper would have to end with a bit of fiction. I packed up and RAN straight inside.

There was a month this summer when a short bus was parked outside of the Chinese restaurant and when rumors were flying. I was told not to walk by…it was all over Facebook (the wonderful stress inducing place that it is). It was a creepy old bus and was one of many topics of conversation. Stay away! Then one day the bus was gone and never seen again.

When I was little the blue plastic siding on the house that always creaked scared me. I would stay awake at night thinking of newer safer ways to escape if someone came through the window. My eyes only shut with exhaustion after staring at the curtains on the window convinced I was seeing flickers of flashlights outside. Finally exhaustion set in and I’d fall asleep.

Yet everyone is a nice guy to me. Unless they appear threatening (sideways glances, follow me into the post office, hang out with a loud bunch of guys). Otherwise they are a potential friend: you are nice unless of course someone I value gives me any reason to believe otherwise.

My neighbor next door has friends over sometimes. I like to listen to her and her boyfriend and their friends, occasionally I’ll join in on the fun, mostly I listen from the other side of the wall. It’s nice to hear voices murmuring. It makes me feel secure, like hearing my parents saying goodnight to each other used to make me feel when I cuddled beneath heavy blankets.

One night last winter I was sick and Zach brought me vitamin “C” tablets. He brushed my hair out of my eyes and handed me a tissue to blow my nose with. My big teddy bear (RoBEARto) is a good roommate in that he keeps to himself and doesn’t make messes that he expects me to clean up, but he also never holds my hand, makes me laugh, or helps me eat Thanksgiving leftovers.

It’s been a full year now that I’ve lived in this apartment…my first apartment. I feel like a little girl who’s been given free reign over an entire house with my ballet posters to stare adoringly at, my pink plush rug, flowery tapestries, and rock collections on the window sills. I’m still scared of strangers and monsters under the bed. Fear is an instinct that I’ve been relying on the past 22 years, but I’m learning the more I fear the less Joy I have. Now is the most grown I’ve ever been, I want it to be a joyful season too. When winds whip and doors slam I hope I grow and trust some more, “there is nothing to fear but fear itself”.

❤

~Elizabeth