Last weekend, I had a pretty fabulous Friday night with a friend in Lake George. I didn't look at my phone for a couple hours. When I got in the car to head home, I noticed a couple missed calls. I recognized the number, though the name was deleted from my phone long ago. I was kind of glad I missed the calls - they definitely would have killed the mood of the night. I ignored the voicemail like I ignore the emails. But the text...well, it's right there on the screen like a train wreck.
As I drove home, I was terrified of what was waiting in my driveway. I pulled around the the corner and peaked down the road to see if anyone was parked at my house. The driveway was empty.
Tonight as I was driving home, I had the same fear. It was completely unprecipitated and irrational, but I had this nagging feeling there was a truck waiting in my driveway and I wondered how much longer I would have to live this way.
I pulled into the empty driveway, went inside, and locked the door behind me. And I realized that I while I'm sometimes afraid of what I'll run into outside, I'm not afraid to be in my own house anymore. And I'll never be afraid in my own home again. And that's pretty awesome.
Friday, March 4, 2011
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