Brave

I am not brave.

I'm not. I shy away from new things.  I cringe at loud sounds, and loud people. 

I prefer avoiding people. I stay home rather than face the crowds, even when it is not Christmas. I often break out in red splotches when I have to speak to a stranger. I lose my train of thought midsentence. I feel awkward in most social situations. So I keep to myself, so as not to risk being rejected.

I take the stairs because I am afraid of getting stuck in an elevator. Unless I forgot my inhaler, because an asthma attack is much worse than being stuck in an elevator.  If anything hurts that doesn't normally hurt, I automatically assume that it is a heart attack.  Except if it's my big toe.  Then I automatically assume that I have the gout.  I had to stop looking stuff up on Web's, because all those obscure diseases frightened me.

I don't stay out late if the parking lot isn't well-lit.  I walk with my keys held in my fist, pointed outward, even if I'm just heading into Walgreen's.  If I hear a strange noise in the middle of the night, I am almost always certain that it's zombies.

If there is anything, anything at all for me to get nervous about, I'm already there, my head tucked tightly under the covers, waiting for the Monster Du Jour to lose interest in me.

My child makes me brave. 

He smiles at me, and looks at me as if I were a superhero. His superhero. Because of that trust, I am brave. I find myself holding his hand and stepping out into the world, smiling at strangers and wading into crowds. I scoff at my aches and pains. I let the spider crawl on me. I start conversations with strangers!

I embrace all the things that I fear, while holding that little hand. I can handle whatever comes our way.

I am brave.



3.) Write a post inspired by the word: brave.

Black

All the ladies in the town wore black if they knew what was good for them. It made no difference that it was one-hundred-and-twelve degrees in the shade on a daily basis; we wore black relentlessly. Black undies, black bra, black dress, black hose, black shoes, black hat, topped off with black shades to keep out the brightest of the sunshine. No one dared to wear any other color outside of their home. The Fashion Police had decreed that black was the color, and they patrolled the city regularly. It wasn't even possible to purchase any other colors within the city limits; those who traveled had their cars searched, just to make sure that no vibrant blues or electric reds made their way into the system. 

Those who bucked the Color decree, even in a minor, accessorizing way, were arrested for random, hastily invented, violations, and there were horror stories about what happened to women who had been taken into custody. Poor Mandy Jenkins was seen walking to the bank wearing nude hose instead of black last Thursday, for instance, and was arrested.  When she was released this morning, her husband immediately took her to the emergency room to try and repair the damage. They are not sure if she will lose the eye, but she was lucky.  Some violators are never seen again. Geraldine Sampson and her sparkly purple Halloween hose. Janine Espinoza and her disgracefully hideous rainbow hat.  Melba Fisher and her bright red spectator pumps.  We all whispered about those women, when we gossiped over the fence or met for tea.  No bodies had ever been found, and some of us wanted desperately to believe that the abducted women were safe.

Where would it all end? 

Time

 

Trifextra prompt:  Robert Frost one said, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."  We want you to do the same.  Sum up anything you want, but do it in three words.

In three words
I can sum up everything
I've learned about time:
everything happens now.