Fear

trings of worry wrapped around me. I felt fear pulling them tighter and tighter with every breath, like a Boa Constricter. The muscles in my back tightened, and the ones in my neck spasmed.

Something was wrong. I could feel it.

When Mum went off to work, I told her to be careful, and let me know as soon as she got there; that she arrived all right. I felt like a worried mother, whose children were wandering the streets of Los Angeles.

Sitka was just a small town in the panhandle of Alaska, no more violent than an old can of peas.

My sister, 13 � months old, stood by the window. Watching. Maybe she was waiting, too. I could actually feel the tension in the air. Zailey, who had always been very sensitive to her surroundings, seemed to be too quiet. The pounding of the rain was all I could hear.

As she stood at the window, back to me, she breathed heavy. The window was open, even though it was raining. Small billows of steam came from her nose, like a dragon breathing smoke. Everyone in the house had a fever, and it seemed to be stifling hot.

Pain flashed and then subsided in my shoulders, where I hold all my stress. Every muscle was prone, and ready for anything.

But What? What exactly was I waiting for? A call from the Emergency Room saying that Mum had been in an accident?

�Get ahold of yourself!' My mind's voice was unexpectedly harsh-sounding, and I looked stupidly around to see if someone had actually said the words.

My eyes blinked rapidly as I reminded myself that everything was fine. No reason to be concerned. It had been a good day, Picked up my book at the bookstore, went to the grocery, lots of good sales this week. What was wrong with me?

A truck with muffler damage drove by, startling me, making adrenaline rush through my veins, and Zailey look startled, then began to cry. She needed a nap, but I was afraid to put her down. This feeling was just Not Right. She was so tired, though.

I sighed as I changed her diaper and started for the stairs. Caution followed me with every step, and I held on tightly to the tiny bunting in my arms. How dependant on me she was. Mummy not coming home till the middle of the night. Sister, the only one to watch out for her. What a lot of responsiblilty I had; watching her both Saturday and Sunday while Mummy went to work at the hospital. But she was worth it, and Mum knew that she was in good hands with me.

Zailey was grateful as I tucked her into her crib, gave her one of the little board books we kept handy, and her Binky. She sucked violently for a minute or so, and must have felt something wrong, too, or she wouldn't have cried as I left the room. I stood outside her closed door, hoping the crying would subside. The panic went out of her voice as I was just about to open the door. Now she was playing.

Ah, well, she could safely play in her crib. Nothing she could hurt herself on there. I walked down the stairs, worry still gnawing at my brain, and turned the baby monitor on to the highest setting. If she so much as sighed, I would be able to hear her. Right then she was playing with her toys, and singing to herself; she eventually quieted down and went to sleep.

A small amount of relief washed over me, but this . . . "danger sensing" feeling did not completely fade. In order to relax myself, I stretched out on the living room floor to do some Yoga. I felt the tension in all my muscles as I leaned into the star. My feet together, and knees bent, I leaned over, groaning slightly at the pull of my leg and back muscles. It hadn't been so long since I did any yoga, and certainly not long enough to have become so stiff.

�You are under too much stress,' I told myself.

This was true: I had fallen asleep around one or two in the morning last night, and even later the night before. I always go to sleep too late, and wake up too early, never getting a good amount of sleep.

Today, at around nine the phone rang. I sat up, not even realizing I was doing it, and answered to phone. Dialtone. I was all set to go back to sleep when my earring back fell off, and I had to �wake up' to find it. I lay in bed after that, and felt I should get up.

Jeez, that seemed like years ago. Stretching out into the front bend, still aware of my painfully stretching muscles, I began to scan my brain for something to focus on while I meditated. What was that called agin? A Madra? A Mantra? Any good Yogi would know what it was called, but I could never keep it from slipping from my memory.

I came up with a haiku to recite, one of my favorites:

I couldn't remember the author's name, or if that was the exact phrasing, but the syllables fit and the basic idea was there.

�Why did you think of gravestones?' I asked myself . . . not quite knowing if I wanted to know why cemeteries suddenly sprang to mind. Clearing my head, I began the silent chant:

In the pale moonlight, the shadows fell from gravestones, longer than their graves. In the pale moonlight shadows fell from gravestones longer than their graves.

Inthepalemoonlightshadowsfellfromgravestoneslongerthanthegraves.

The words jumbled themselves in my mind, until I could no longer remember them. Still, not breaking my trance, I listened as the words reformed themselves, the thoughts not my own:

The pallbearers at midnight, fall from shadows and gravestones, the evil you created will send you to your grave.

Thepallbearersatmidnightfallfromshadowsandgravestonestheevilyoucreatedwillsendyoutoyourgrave.

My heart was beginning to pound, and I opened my eyes. I was still on the floor, still deeply breathing, or maybe a little too deeply.

Climbing the stairs, I slowly opened the baby's bedroom door. She was asleep, her book in hand, at the foot of her crib. I covered her up, then kissed my hand and pressed it to her face. A long distance kiss.

Knowing that she was all right, I left her room and walked into mine. Laundry that needed hanging up lay in a pile. Clutter was everywhere. The smell of old incense and sweat was in the air. Yes, that room definitely was me. Smelled like me, looked like me, felt like me.

I sat on my new earth-tone sheets, and took deep breaths. I turned on some music, and just sat there, in my room, on my bed.

Picking up my crystal from my bedside table, (I didn't remember where I got it, but for some reason I felt that particular crystal was special.) I felt my pulse thump against it. Imagining that every beat of my heart was letting out the tension, and bringing in relaxation, I fell asleep, not noticing that I had closed my eyes, not noticing that I had lay down. I dreamed for a long time.

I slept very deeply, that day. I'm not even sure the thought crossed my mind that Mum had never called until later. Much later.

Read the review

Back to the archive

Return to.... SSC