This week as upstate New York participated in the snowstorms and below freezing weather enjoyed by large swaths of the country, I felt a fear and loathing of the outdoors I’d never felt before. All I wanted to do was turn up the heat, drink hot tea, and stay indoors.
I almost let this fear keep me from joining a friend at the movie theater this past weekend: Go out after dark? What if I can’t make it back up our little private road that is never plowed properly and readily turns to ice?
It’s easy to get out of here on the downhill, but going uphill to get back home is the challenge.
If my car gets stuck and I have to get out to get help, will I freeze to death? I heard on the news that one old person was found frozen after she left home without adequate clothing. She had dementia, and I guess I don’t yet, but still—it sounded scary.
Then I told myself I was being irrational and agreed to join my friend.
The theater is at the mall and their parking lot was pretty much all ice. Driving slowly, it was fine, but I was still scared. Would it be even worse as temperatures dropped later in the evening?
I was shocked to see so many people at the theater. I thought everyone would be home keeping warm.
What am I thinking? People in upstate New York don’t stop going out because of the weather.
Did my ten-day stay in Florida ruin me for winters here?
As I age, I’m losing my strength and gaining new fears. Weather that was exciting when I was younger now feels threatening.
Yet I’ve also lost many of the fears I had when younger. At least, they are milder now.
I take more joy in the doing rather than the reward for doing. The process is more important than the product.
I know that whatever is happening now will change.
I know I can live alone. I’m doing it.
I know I will die, and whether that day comes sooner or later, it will be fine.
