She tended to worry a lot for a kid.
She’d lay awake at night afraid to listen to the sound of her heart beating,
worried that it might stop.
She’d once read the Time-Life Encyclopedia on The Universe and became obsessed with the woman from Alabama who was singled out, by a rock from a far place, in her sleep.
So, she’d lay awake in her bed looking up at that place in the ceiling where her meteorite would surely fall through, and beg,” not tonight I have art class tomorrrow.”
As she got older, every book, movie or newspaper article told the story of someone, roughly her own age, dying young.
And so she became convinced that every stomach pain, headache or leg cramp was the onset of her own unhappy ending.
She hated that she worried so much, yet found herself drawn to the very things that caused her to worry.
Freak accidents, natural disasters, incurable illnessess…
She would often think as she read that slogan for the dry cleaners,
“Deposit Your Worries Here”
Oh, if only there were such a place!
And how busy it would be!
She imagined big sacks of worries, pinned up with huge diaper pins, thrown into
big canvas carts and wheeled off by conveyor belt into some dark, mysterious tunnel where they’d be cleaned, steamed, starched and pressed into strength and hope.
Such a place would be magnificent, she dreamed…
what it was…
that she was…
Bondye konn bay, men li pa konn separe – God gives but does not share.
God gives us humans everything we need to flourish, but he’s not the one who’s supposed to divvy up the loot. That charge was laid upon us.” ~ Dr. Paul Farmer