Saturday, November 15, 2014
I had a scare this week.
What does that mean? It's skirting what I mean to say, which is that I got scared this week. Seriously frightened, in my apartment, alone, in the middle of the night. I took steps the next day to be safer and I dug up the weapon my sisters got me a few years ago.
My friends have similar fears, I found, in conversations since. One, who just moved into a house, has thoughts of how easy it would be for an intruder to get in. We talked, laughingly serious, about buying baseball bats.
Another, at home alone some nights with a child, worries some, and props a bottle up by the door as an early warning system.
We all walk around juggling fear and bravery and strategies inside us, I guess. Not so far removed from our ancestors, huddled around the fire for warmth and safety, fingers twitching near a trusty stick, just in case.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
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