Early Beginnings

IN GOOD HANDS
Safety is achieved when I am with my grandparents. There is no way to explain the feeling I get when I wake up on a Saturday morning in the room I have claimed as my own when I stay at their home. That’s what it is, a home, not a house. The level of comfort and security I have when I am there is overwhelming. Not once do I think of the things going on at home, or of some terrifying experience happening when I am there. In no way do I feel as though I am in the line of harm. They are my safety nets, my grandparents. They are the anchors of my sailboat. I move along at alarming speeds and just when I am about to spin out of control, they pull me back and assure that no harm has been done to me.


WORST CHILDHOOD NIGHTMARE
When I think about it, my worst fear when I was small was losing my mom. I remember one time I was waiting after school for my mom to come pick me up after orchestra class, and she never showed up. I was terrified that she had forgotten about me, and I didn’t know what to do. So as fast as my little legs could carry me, I made my way up to my fifth grade teacher’s classroom and frantically asked her to call my mom. From there, everything turned out to be okay. She talked to my mother and when she hung up, she told me something about our car breaking down and that she was on her way to come get me. I knew everything was fine, but in those fifteen minutes when I was terrified my mother would never come get me, I thought I was going to be lost forever. I never would have thought that a single, insignificant occurrence could impact how I would watch out for myself always.