the underbelly

Every time our move comes up someone inevitably asks me one of two questions: 1. what about schooling for M? or 2. aren't you afraid of her getting sick?

I'm not so worried about school, at least not yet. Call me an underachiever, but I hope that the sum of what M will be learning will round out the parts she's not. Besides, she's not even in school yet and from what I recall elementary school is more of an exercise in socialization than getting into Harvard. And to be honest, I'm not sure what getting into Harvard gets you. I mean, I am sure it gets you stuff, but perhaps not the stuff I think is important. But this one is easy, if the local schools aren't giving her what she needs we'll supplement or home school altogether. We are smart people, smart enough at least. We can at least get ourselves to algebra before panic ensues.

Illness is harder. If there is one thought that rattles around in my brain at odd hours of the day it's the fear of actually causing her harm by our actions. That she'll not have access to the care she needs or that she'll get bitten by some mysterious jungle bug that will cause her toe to swell up and pop right off. In my darker moments I am almost paranoid, how will I protect her from all that I do not know? What will I do?

I realize that I've been lulled into complacency, I don't think every time we get into a car that we might get into an accident and I sometimes forget to wash the grapes. I am lulled because I know what to do here, I know those three little numbers to call if I'm in trouble and her insurance card is in my wallet. I know how fast I can get her to the hospital and I've got medicine on my shelf.

I do not know any of those answers for where we are going, not yet anyways. And so the not knowing can be consuming, I try and balance the bits of paranoia and fear that I readily attribute to my constitution no matter the situation and add two parts new experience and four parts there are tons of kids there and expat kids too and can mostly, mostly find my peace.

But I'll never, ever forgive myself should something happen to her, something that happens to her because we chose to do this crazy thing. And conversely, I'll not forgive myself if I let fear settle in at my table and make himself at home and keep us for trying to do this one extraordinary thing. J and I, while celebrating our sixth anniversary the other evening over good pasta and better wine, spent a long while talking about this very thing and his courage in some respects allows me to falter knowing there are two of us, two brains and hearts in one room feeling our way goes a long way.

Fear is a nasty bugger. It can keep us still and small, stuck on status quo. Some fears keep you safer and others can make you crazy. So as we move forward I'll run the gamut, fearing unknown dangers and willing myself to simply leap, hands clasped tightly as we go.

Don't forget to send me your Just Posts for July at girlplustwo@yahoo.com. The Roundtable will be here fresh and perky on the 10th. Join us.