Fear

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 Sometimes I get scared. I hear a loud voice in the stairwell. I see the shadow of a person walking behind me. I get a call in the middle of the night. I get a nasty email from a nasty person. I see a lizard. I have a bad dream. And I get scared. I feel like climbing under the covers, closing my eyes, and getting out only after the whole world is covered with pink flowers. 

Those times I think of my mom really hard. When I was a child and I would get scared, my mom would wipe my face with a damp cloth, make me warm milk, mash rice and bananas in it, and feed me. I remember feeling soothed but not because the fear went away or anything. I think she always made it seem as if we had fear as part of our tribe. It was part of us. It was one of us. 

Today I was thinking of mummy a lot. And I came across this picture. I think it sums up the relationship I had with the world when my mom was around.




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