Day 7. Fear

Yes, I’m a day behind on my post. That’s okay, because I’m afraid my photo doesn’t really fit the assignment anyway. (Ha! Did you get that?!)

Anyway, I have some silly superficial fears. I scared of spiders, even the teeny tiny little house spiders that couldn’t hurt a fly. All because when I was young a spider followed me from the living room to my bedroom. No small feat. And another one that I thought I’d drowned in my shower came back up the drain. While the water was still running. Shudder.

I also have irrational fears. Like when Will was young, being afraid that I might die without anyone knowing and Will found me and no one came to check on us for a long time. Now that Will knows how to dial a phone I’m pretty much over that one. Mostly.

To be honest, I don’t like to think about my fears much. Maybe because it makes me feel weak, or that it gives my fears power if I recognize them, or because it’s just plain unpleasant. But for the sake of concocting a story to tie in this wholly off-topic photo into a just barely acceptable representation of fear, I remembered a sort-of fear from my teenage years.

Have you ever played “Would You Rather?” Not even the board game, or with other people. Has your brain ever presented you with two options and asked you which you would rather have happen to you? Well, mine did. My brain liked to ask if I would rather be blind or deaf. Difficult choice for some, but I knew that I would choose complete darkness over being deaf. Why? Because of music. Music was the most important thing in my life at the time. I could not imagine never hearing another song on the radio or note played from the piano.

Then came Will.

Suddenly hearing music seemed less important than gazing on his newborn perfection, seeing his first smile, watching him walk into school for his first day of kindergarten (though cloudy through the tears). Never mind the fact that it’s difficult enough to keep track of a boy, let alone one you can’t see. I know that blind people successfully raise children all the time. I have friends who have never seen their children’s faces. And while I’m sure that I would persevere in the unfortunate event that my sight disappeared, the thought of never seeing Will’s big brown eyes and shining smile is heartbreaking.

My photo isn’t an image of fear. It is simply something beautiful I saw yesterday morning. Just one more reminder of how fortunate I am to have sight.

Winter View


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