Friday, May 15, 2009

Bump, Beep, Boom.

After one's space is invaded, like say through a robbery in the night, one's imagination runs rampant and one's shrinking sense of security, coupled with the uncontrollable imagination, makes a psychological disaster.

Last night, the first night after "the theft," every noise outside my apartment stole my attention from the basketball game I was watching. Sirens and car noises whizzed by, and I had some strange feeling they were heading my way. As I tried to sleep, every bump, beep, and boom interrupted my chase for slumber, startling me to worry uncontrollably. Inside the apartment, the creaks that come from an apartment complex sent shivers down my spine of a further invasion of my space, directly into my haven.

As I stirred, I saw Sara sleeping, beautifully and calmly, but why? And, how? The danger of this world, there is so much of it!, lurked, and probably lurks, right outside our window, and she was sleeping and probably dreaming about our wedding. This time, we had no Zach to help us. Last night, the score was thugs 1, us 0, and it was climbing with every toss and turn.

Sara, in her sleep, taught me one thing: it is going to be alright. When I would touch her in her sleep, a hand on her cheek or a hug around her chest, she assured me with a sigh of comfort, relief, we were okay.

Maybe, I shouldn't be so freaked. Bad things happen all over the world, and this injustice, a petty theft in the night, is likely on the low end of the spectrum. Instead of worrying about it, I should focus on solid prevention. Education. Safety measures. Calm alertness. I want to be the provider, the protector, the fearless for Sara, but I like my space to remain just that, mine. 

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