(Something I wrote back in the year 2000... an exaggerated anxiety over a very trivial matter. Read on.)
Do you know how a child feels when he
let go of a balloon that he loves so much? Or how it feels when you set a bird free after you took care of it in its cage for so many years? Or letting your fish swim in the ocean after it has swam in your aquarium for so long?
Of course, you might say that the metaphor wasn’t right because balloons, fishes and birds don’t come back, but my son will surely go home after the trip. Nonetheless, the feeling of fear and anxiety doesn’t differ... perhaps more intense.
Actually, this feeling isn’t really new to me. I felt the same way the first day I left my boy in school. I was able to survive that. What would make a difference now? I don’t know, but as I was walking away this morning, frequently looking back, I can’t help but worry.
Looking at him... so young... small... and fragile. After all, he is only eight years old, in the company of absolute strangers! Well, at least they are strangers to me.
The irony of it all is that my son doesn’t show any signs of fear or anxiety.