I guess it was best I had some steadfast delusions when I was a young adult. Pretty sure that was about five years ago.
Those delusions shielded me from some harsh realities. My biggest delusion? Believing you get a well of wisdom and serenity bestowed upon you about the same time you are eligible to join AARP. I don’t know why I thought that. My entire belief was founded in a pool of information my brain made up. You know, science-y stuff.
Anyway, I did not glide into my fifth decade with composure I possessed as a reward for not dying young.
I still get spooked super easy. Same as when I was young.
By “spooked easy” I mean “not rational”.
Since my brain sees no point in being rational, I am often struck with extreme terror that something tragic happened.
The other night, for instance. Randy was still out of town and I was alone most evenings. I am not going to lie, there is an allure to having space all to myself. I can eat what I feel like eating and watch what I want. What’s not to love? I totally love it. For about an hour. Then, I really want my boys around.
One evening, I sat out on the deck. The air was brisk, but definitely spring like. I heard a fuck ton of sirens. First police or ambulance sirens and then firetrucks. This happened about the time Joey comes home from work. The sirens sounded like they were on the road he would be driving on to get home.
There are like a zillion cars on Tylersville. It’s not Joey. It might not even be a car crash. Maybe, there is a house on fire. Or maybe, there’s a car on fire. But not Joey’s car. Definitely not Joey’s car.
But it could be Joey. I mean, it’s definitely possible.
So, I did what I do, and I sent him a text.
Me: Hey baby. I just heard a fuck ton of sirens and I’m freaking out because I’m a crazy person. Are you okay?
Joey: No. There all these cars chasing me.
Joey: It’s annoying.
So, he was fine.
I hate panicking. I hate being afraid. I hate bracing myself for an emotional blow I completely make up.
Even so, I am trying to find silver linings where I can these days. I’m not making much progress in my transformation into the peaceful old lady phase, but I do look forward to Joey’s responses to my panic texts. He started responding in this manner around 4 years ago.
Randy and I left him alone for a weekend when he was 15 years old so we could visit our mountain friends. I was uneasy the entire trip. The bass player reminded me multiple times that Joey was probably having sex. In fact, mountain girl and the bass player even made up a “Joey’s getting laid” song.
I sent Joey a text as the evening grew late and asked if he was okay.
Joey: No. I accidentally started a game of Jumanji. There are rhinos everywhere. Robin Williams is on my bed.
Joey: Send help.
If I’m not going to get issued any “old lady calm”, then I might as well be entertained while I panic. I do so love my son. He makes me laugh.
I hope I didn’t ruin anything for those of you who still believe that one day you get to be serene and wise without doing the work it takes to find serenity and wisdom. You might as well know the truth. The tranquility fairy isn’t real.
Or maybe, I’m just being impatient. Maybe, I’m not quite old enough yet. You don’t know.