He looked to his left, at the dark dense woods bordering the side of the dirt road. The dirt road he lived on. The dirt road he was walking barefoot, and at night. He could feel the cool Georgia clay beneath his feet, some dirt between his toes.
He thought he saw something large and dark move out of the corner of his eye just as he turned his gaze forward once again. He whipped his head back to the left, but nothing, just the woods.
Although he couldn't see something dark and sinister stalking him, he felt sure something was watching him. Tommy started to feel panic rising within him. He wanted to go home, be home, among his family, but his house was a lot further down the road from where he stood. As he was trying to decide if he should run home, or towards the closer highway for help, a shrill, screaming noise broke the silence around him and sent his heart into such a pounding he was sure it would explode right out of his chest.
"This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill! The mother ship has landed and we need to evacuate!"
"Daaad!" Tommy could hear his little brother Dell groaning from his bunk below.
Tommy sat up, he felt clammy and disoriented. His hands were wet with sweat and his heart was still pounding hard. He realized he had been dreaming, but nevertheless, a feeling of cold fear still clung to him.
"You alright Tommy?" his father asked, standing in the doorway with an airhorn in one hand and a towel in another.
"Yeah Dad, think I was having a dream when you blasted us awake" Tommy said, trying to blink clear the haze of sleep.
"Would you rather I leave you sleeping while extraterrestrials tour the house uninvited and slurped your brains like soup?" his father asked.
Tommy's Dad had a wicked sense of humor, and did have a fascination with life on other planets, but he didn't really believe that E.T.'s would roam the house eating brains like chunky soup.
"Dad, that's weirder than my dream" Tommy replied.
"Shouldn't be eating cat food before bed son, messes with your dreams" Tommy's Dad said. "Here's a towel, hop in the shower", and with that, his Dad tossed the towel up on the bunk to him and walked back down the hall. Tommy didn't eat cat food before he went to bed anymore than little green men were going to dip into his skull with a spoon. He rolled his eyes as he watched his father walk away, but he was smiling, amused by his Dad, and the dark dream, complete with the heart pounding fear, was forgotten about.
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Instinct and Oblivion
My husband and I successfully share one set of instincts. Now, they're pretty powerful and keen instincts, providing supersonic hearing, a wicked sixth sense, and an ability to be able to handle three children talking at you at once ("She's in my spot!", "He took my cup!", "Why do I have to do the litter box?!").
However, like all super powers, this amazing instinct does have a kryptonite. It cannot be shared.
For instance, most of the time I am carrying the instinct. I am top of eight little lives, a house, a husband, dozens of little critters, and once in a while, me. In the midst of a particular moment of chaos; early evening, cooking dinner on the stove, helping with at least four kids' homework, disciplining kids who had less than glamorous notes from their teachers, my son complaining of a bug bite, my daughter covered in sand from outside, the baby on the counter playing with pots and pans in the sink, and my husband is carrying on a conversation with me like we were at Sunday brunch in the park.
This uncanny ability to be able to tune out the chaos is extraordinary. Sometimes I am jealous of this condition of oblivion, but then, every once in a while there's a shift, a change, and the Instinct swaps with the Oblivion. Jay is suddenly on the ball, hears everything, cleans messes, changes diapers, plans dinners, seeks out too-quiet kids, whacks the slackers, and knows what's going on. I, on the other hand, no longer equipped with the Instinct, temporarily inherit Oblivion. Oh, it's nice here. Pleaseant. And I don't have to give much of a hoot because Jason's got it. Whew. Yeah, I take advantage of this! And so does he. He plays, snuggles, and bonds a lot during these times. Very productive on some of the things he may have been slacking or procrastinating on.
We make a great team, Jay and I. Eleven years together and instead of growing apart, we grew around and entwined with each other.
I hope that each one of my children find the same kind of love in their lives. XOXO
However, like all super powers, this amazing instinct does have a kryptonite. It cannot be shared.
For instance, most of the time I am carrying the instinct. I am top of eight little lives, a house, a husband, dozens of little critters, and once in a while, me. In the midst of a particular moment of chaos; early evening, cooking dinner on the stove, helping with at least four kids' homework, disciplining kids who had less than glamorous notes from their teachers, my son complaining of a bug bite, my daughter covered in sand from outside, the baby on the counter playing with pots and pans in the sink, and my husband is carrying on a conversation with me like we were at Sunday brunch in the park.
This uncanny ability to be able to tune out the chaos is extraordinary. Sometimes I am jealous of this condition of oblivion, but then, every once in a while there's a shift, a change, and the Instinct swaps with the Oblivion. Jay is suddenly on the ball, hears everything, cleans messes, changes diapers, plans dinners, seeks out too-quiet kids, whacks the slackers, and knows what's going on. I, on the other hand, no longer equipped with the Instinct, temporarily inherit Oblivion. Oh, it's nice here. Pleaseant. And I don't have to give much of a hoot because Jason's got it. Whew. Yeah, I take advantage of this! And so does he. He plays, snuggles, and bonds a lot during these times. Very productive on some of the things he may have been slacking or procrastinating on.
We make a great team, Jay and I. Eleven years together and instead of growing apart, we grew around and entwined with each other.
I hope that each one of my children find the same kind of love in their lives. XOXO
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