(Long Island, N.Y.) Recently, another news report awakened my deepest, darkest fear. While the kids slept careless in their beds upstairs, I listened to the news anchor reveal the details of the latest child kidnapping tragedy: the missing Georgia boy’s body was found on a roadside– murdered and discarded in a plastic bag. My heart broke in a million pieces. As I started to cry, my sleepy 4-year-old comes staggering down the stairs.
“What’s the matter, sweet heart? It’s after 10, you should be sleeping.” I said as I muted the television.
“Monsters.” he said.
“There’s no monsters, honey.” I motioned for him to rest on my lap and rubbed his back to make him feel safe and secure. Hoping he couldn’t feel my heart pounding in my own fear.
But there are monsters. And I wished he could stay here forever snoring on my lap. As I carried him up the stairs and put him back into his bed, my own fright started swarming. Monsters. Many of them.
I crept around the house, jiggling every door, checking every window– peeking out into the darkness outside, feeling like I never want my children to leave this house—ever. As I settled in my own bed I faced the task of talking myself down from my scary thoughts. My mind raced with frightening scenarios and I make that promise in my head whenever I hear sad news. I remind myself to always stay sharp, aware, guarded. To remember to make wise decisions and trust my instincts.
A few years back I was watching a television interview with a serial killer and the reporter asked him why he targeted one particular home. He said simply, “The door was open.” He had tried a few other houses that night and just happened upon an unlocked door. As simple as that. They are known as ‘crimes of opportunity’. There are things in life, horrible things you can’t control. But things like an unlocked door can be prevented. I hopped out of bed and checked the children again, the doors, the windows, the alarm, feeling temporarily paranoid.
I knew hearing the news about the poor innocent boy was playing tricks on my mind. A parents’ worst fear. It’s now past midnight and I was wide awake, feeling worried–as if something’s wrong. I guess that’s what happens sometimes, when you watch the news before you go to sleep. I thought, for now on, I’m going to watch old Seinfeld episodes because this is crazy. I got up –again–checking things around the house. Something didn’t feel right. I sniffed the air for smoke, checked to make sure the phone was working, even opened closets and peeked under my bed.
Now really, what on earth was I looking for? Monsters? Sure, I know why I was suddenly surveying the house–the news– but there was something deeper bothering me. This is crazy, I whispered to myself as I hopped out of bed for the third time to poke around the house. Surely, my fears were toying with my instincts but I decided to indulge myself and hoped all that walking around would tire me out enough to finally fall asleep.
As I jiggled the front door in my pajamas–something made me go ahead and open it. The freezing air rushed in and I stepped outside feeling like a total nut. All was quiet. But then I turned my head to the right and there it was—exactly what I was subconsciously looking for. Hours earlier when I took the garbage out, I must have got distracted. Right there, under the porch light in the middle of a small table—were my house keys. The keys to my life, just there for the taking. Talk about a potential crime of opportunity. I ran out in my bare feet, snatched the keys and locked up tight. As I jumped back into bed, I suddenly felt the strangest peace. Fear can be bossy and play tricks on you. But instincts — well apparently they bat last.
