When I was a kid, I used to stand on the second floor landing and watch my parents' car pull out of the driveway. I believed that the longer I kept their tail lights in sight, the greater their chance of returning home. My small face would be mushed against the window glass, angling for that last view.
I'd like to tell you I grew out of this, but just now I found myself at my dining room window, watching another set of tail lights snake down the driveway, down our small road, and out of sight. This time, my son and his wife were leaving. I wave frantically while keeping the car in sight, to improve their chances of arriving back at their apartment safely.
When I thought about reviving this blog, I toyed with the idea of re-naming it "Anxiety Girl." Alas, someone beat me to it, and hers is linked to support groups, literature on anxiety, etc. But if I'm going to be real here, you need to know that I grapple with worry all the time. Like when the kids were little and their school bus pulled away, I would picture it in flames, their own tiny faces plastered against the bus windows, helpless to get out. (Too much information?)
I'm somewhat better now. Therapy helps. Now, when stuff like that happens, I realize what I'm doing, and say, "Wow, Kate. Great imagination! I just love how cinematic your images were and the colors were magnificent. Very creative. Now let's get back to real life, shall we?"
Anyway, I'm sure my son and his wife will be just fine. Besides, they know they need to text me when they are safely home.