I am afraid.

I don’t have cancer –that I know of.  I am not dying–well I am, but not today, I don’t think.  My kids are well so far as I’m aware.  And my loved ones are well too.  Yesterday I sat with my 100 year old grandfather and he held my hand.  Where normally he cries, yesterday he did not.  His blue eyes were clear.  “Some people never grow up Sarah, and that’s all I have to say about that.”

I am able to see the good, and there is a great deal of it.

But try as I might, the good simply does not erase my fear.

It is deep and horrible.

I just cannot see.  The questions are tiring to me.

How are the kids? Terrible.

How am I? Devastated.

What will we do? I have no idea.

Will we move? No clue.

Will I work? God knows.

The questions are endless and the answers are absent.

Lately the only thing I can think to do is take care of my kids and run.  I run a lot.  My feet hurt, my shins, my calves, my mind, my body, my heart.

I am afraid.



One thought on “Fear

  1. Karen Maezen Miller says:

    I just found out that you’ve been blogging. Good for you. It reminds me of pouring myself into long-ago journals. Your head sees clearly. Your heart will catch up. We can talk anytime or never. There is nothing you need to do right now. The universe is reordering itself. Love to you and the kids. All the love there is.

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