5 Years Old & Frantic

Being afraid is a total-body experience for me. I sometimes feel like the mother duck who always wants to know that all of her ducklings are ok and safe. This feeling dates back to my first memory of being frightened. I was five years old. Dad was a salesman for a meat packing company. He would be on the road all day long and made it a point to always be home at night. 

I was not happy until everyone in my family was home. It was a dark and stormy night. Storm warnings had been out all day. By 7:00 that night Dad was officially late at arriving home. He had to be home in time to get his orders into the post office by 8:00 PM so they would be in Milwaukee by the next day. I was now officially frantic. The tears were running down my face and I could not stand still. 7:15 and still no dad. Mom kept trying to calm me down and I was not cooperating. I started going over everything my five-year-old mind could conjure up as far as what horrible tragedy could have befallen my dad. At 7:40 I saw headlights coming up the driveway.

I ran to the back door. Dad got out of his car and picked up his books. By the time he got in the door, he was soaking wet. I was beside myself and collapsed in a pile of sobs. Dad was dumbfounded and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He took me in his arms and hugged me to him. He asked what I had been so afraid of. 

He tried to explain that the roads had been very wet and he had to go more slowly than normal.  When he realized what time it was, he decided to stop at the post office on his way home and write out his orders so they would be received on time. 

All of his logic and sensible explanation was lost on me. I just kept saying how scared I was that something really bad had happened. He felt bad that I had been so scared but all I cared about was that my dad was home and everyone was all right. 

This was the first time that I remember feeling this kind of all-consuming fear. As I grew older, there were other times when I felt that awful feeling that something bad must have happened. When my husband and I were dating, he was driving from Southern California up to Napa where I lived. He said he would be home before dark. Darkness had fallen and still no Michael. 

By the time midnight struck I was beside myself. It was again a rainy and stormy night. I was standing in the large living room window. I could see headlights coming up the street. It drove by and my hopes were dashed. I stayed at my post in the window as if my staying there would bring him home faster. Finally, around 1:00 AM I saw a car pull into the driveway. A very tired and wet Michael stepped in. He had experienced a flat tire about halfway up the coast. It was dark and rainy so he called AAA to come and help. It took hours for the truck to come to help him out. Once the tire was changed, he realized that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast so he stopped for a bite to eat. The rest of the way was traveling on the spare tire. 

When Michael stepped in the door, I was so relieved. I was sure by this time that I would never see him alive again.  This was before cell phones. A phone would have come in handy. I was reminded of that night all those years ago when I was frantic about my Dad’s late arrival. Once again, I  was completely drained and frankly, a hot mess. 

When someone I care deeply about is late my mind goes to worst-case scenarios. The other person is usually taking care of what needs to be done and then continuing on their way. They never anticipated that I would be so fatalistic in my thinking. The other component of my fear is the stormy darkness and the rain that goes with it.

I’m not a person that gets frightened easily. As I write these words, I’m a bit surprised at myself. My being frightened certainly doesn’t make the other person feel good. This gives new meaning to me of the expression “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself”. I guess FDR knew what he was talking about. It’s about time I learn this lesson.

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