The calls come nightly.
The caller is an important part of my diminishing world.
She is of my generation.
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Yet I am becoming increasingly hesitant to answer.
Her nightly inquiry remains static:
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“Aren’t you afraid?”
And when I dare to inquire why, the recital begins:
“Tariffs, Ukraine, Social Security, Medicare, Measles outbreak, Musk, vaccines, etc,”
and on and on with a review of the current rumbles of dissent spoken and written about since the inauguration of the new administration.
Admittedly with a degree of self survival, I listen, and then struggle to respond to my caller:”
“I voted, and as always, have accepted the voices of the majority.”
“I cannot and will not robe myself in more fear than the process of longevity has gifted.”
“My cup is close to running over,”
If I indulge in the ongoing non productive chorus of negativity, I only further diminish my waning strength.
Yet I know if I respond with honesty to my caller, there will be another rupture in my shrinking world of kindred souls who share the perilous path of old age.
And while I am tempted, I must remember that fear is the easiest emotion to give away and I must not share my own.
And so I respond to my caller with the words of another:
“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.” Patrick Rothfuss
And hope she does not comprehend all the fears I dare not share.
