Fear in the Family

Winter makes everything quiet. Here it is the first day of spring and snow is falling on the tulips half up and ready, half-frozen in fear. The birds, out in full regalia two days ago when the wind was a balmy 65 degrees, have renegotiated their contract and seem now to practice social distancing just as we all slowly, reluctantly move to “shelter in.”

I listen longer than I normally would, and off in the distance there is one bird still singing. And then another in the opposite direction, answers her call. In spite of the shift in events, the untimely snow, the community lockdown, there are at least two birds still singing.

Things have changed, but I still believe good things are coming. It’s hard to write right now, to find any sort of rhythm in word, let alone thought or deed, but I sense the need growing stronger as each day brings its steady uncertainty. I find myself distracted by the trees, by a desire to look outside for signs of life. I make coffee and put on my winter coat and woolen socks, my mud boots and my sister’s hat, to go sit in the “sunroom” and wait. The coffee warms my heart when I hold the mug close enough and the steam opens my pores, to breathe, to give thanks for this wide open plain of collective experience — the unknown being all that is certain. It has always been this way, but now we all know, together.

One day at a time we move, gently, carefully, trying to breathe and give thanks for the moment, in spite of the fact that Fear is now firmly seated at the table. He arrived suddenly last night with a suitcase full of hand sanitizer, toilet paper, and whiskey. He says he plans to stay indefinitely, possibly for the rest of the year.

Now that Fear has established himself as a member of the family, we try to welcome what he is teaching us by virtue of his presence. It turns out, when we calm him down, he actually proves to be somewhat of an asset. He warns us of danger, and keeps us alert and focused. He helps us be prudent and take care of the life we’ve been given. But he loves to pontificate and escalate and if left unchecked, he would burn the whole house down in no time at all. He is an avid conspiracy theorist, and his outlandish views become more believable as he tugs at loosened threads of community and connection. He is addicted to social media and local news; he loves to regale us with stories of unimaginable suffering.

So we sit with Fear and we listen, but we don’t let him lead the conversation, for Love is present too and always has been, for longer than anyone can remember. Love is always last to speak, for Love waits till everyone has had a turn. Love listens like no other. Love is not afraid of what she will hear.

Good things are coming… Love knows the beat of her heart is steady as ever and as the need grows, so does she.

My history with Love extends so far back, I cannot remember where it all started or how it began. She has always been in the family, we share the same blood. But Fear, Fear started coming around when I was a child. My parents tried to hide his entrance, late at night after I’d gone to bed. They would rush him off before daylight, and breathe a celebratory sigh of relief at his departure. I remember the first time I saw him, I was surprised at how much he looked like my father, how much he looked like me. He behaved like an estranged relative come home to claim his inheritance. He would stay too long and sneak around the house when no one was looking. But I kind of felt for him cause he was actually quite small, too small for his age, sickly and pale, especially in broad daylight. He walked with a limp and he tried to hide his weakness in ways that were embarrassingly evident.

Later I would realize that Fear breathes only his own atmosphere and that is no way to live. He looks always as if he’s about to run out of air.

So for now we wait, all of us in the same house, trying to get comfortable with the idea that this could go on for a long time. But really, we’ve always been roommates and no one is going anywhere until it’s time to go, and that’s never been for us to decide anyway. Love puts on a record and invites Fear to dance. It’s a funny proposition, but what else is there to do?