A is for Anxiety
Floating somewhere above all this is a place of calm.
Only you can never get there because of the nightmarish clouds swirling between here and there. Dark clouds heavy with rain and the overbearing threat of storms to come. They look like eggshells--the kind of clouds that funnel down to the earth and wreak havoc as chaotic whirlwinds. The horrible menace of random destruction. One building may stand untouched while its neighbor is utterly undone. The wind howls and rumbles like a freight train. The smell of ozone. The windows rattle and the hairs of your arms stand on end. The air takes on a greenish tinge. The smell of ozone. Should you risk taking in the laundry from the line? A neighbor's garbage can rolls down the street. Where is the safest place to shelter? How long will it take for the storm to pass? Will the funnel cloud touch down here at all? It doesn't matter. Because there are no clouds. There is no threat. There is no sky. All these things are concocted by your skittering imagination. And knowing this? Knowing this does not help. Because you can still hear the wind drowning out all other sounds. You can still feel the first salty raindrops. And you are cowering under the stairs with your hands about your head waiting for all this to pass.
Quaker, teacher, parent,