April 10, 2022
I keep myself awake, most nights, nurturing a feeling of fear, a small tickle of terror that isn’t really as bad as it sounds. It’s a familiar relative of the panic I felt as a child, when I would wake in the dark and lay still, thinking about the large window in the living room, the one looking out over a yard that came alive with light if it sensed something treading on it. I thought, if I stood there long enough, and stared at the lamplit street, I would see something I was not supposed to and then it would be too late to turn away. I am back there now, most nights, watching out the window, witnessing a world of bad, wishing I had not looked. I know I am living in two places at once, seeing more than I am meant to. I know someone is walking towards the window and I know that, most nights, I scramble to shut my eyes tight before the lawn lights up and I see something I can’t forget.
