Quicksand

Last night when I couldn’t sleep—and yes I’m back to that again because I stopped listening to my husband’s assurances that Donald will never be president again and I seriously don’t think I will survive if that happens—anyway, last night when I was staring into that 2:00 am darkness with the pit of fear in my belly, I started reminiscing on being a kid growing up in the sixties and what terrified me back then.

My number one fear, and I don’t say this lightly, was falling into quicksand and being swallowed up.

Never mind that I grew up in a fully developed residential Philadelphia neighborhood. I was convinced every puddle was a death trap.

Clearly, I watched a lot of cartoons.  I mean, I have no other explanation. Which brings me to my number two fear, that a masked robber would climb up a ladder and open the bedroom window directly above my headboard, jump in and steal my Barbie dolls, and hit me over the head and try to kill me so I couldn’t identify him in a lineup.

Never mind that our home was a two story row house, the back of which was on an incline and faced another row of two story houses…in other words, no one could climb up said ladder without being noticed but it’s moot because no one would want to.  The neighborhood was basically lower middle class, which in the sixties meant your annual income was around $10,000.

To be honest, I didn’t even have real Barbies, I had mostly dime store knockoffs.

Heh.  The dime store.

Oy I am so old.

My final fear was being bombed by the communists, but only because we had air raid drills at school where we had to huddle in the gym.  I have to admit, I wasn’t nearly as afraid of the atomic bomb as quicksand and burglars since I was pretty sure between the cement windowless walls of the basement gym and staying quiet and perfectly still like the teacher instructed, I would be safe from nuclear disaster.

Anyway, this morning in the light of day I don’t feel as anxious, I know as long as I stay away from the news and live one day at a time, I will be fine.

I’m not gonna worry about Donald, anyway.  And my husband assures me that our Social Security checks won’t stop next month when the evil Republican Congress tries to cause a default because President Joe will save us.

Okay, whatever you say, but aren’t you also the person who’s been telling me since January 7, 2021 that Donald is going to jail?

Oh well. Like I said, I’m really not gonna worry about that or anything.  I can’t, I will go insane.

I’m gonna enjoy my Mother’s Day weekend and eat lots of cake and french fries.

I just really wanted to share my fear of quicksand.