Tag Archives: fall

Fear and courage

My son declares
“I’m not scared
of anything”

Almost 7 and still a wonder
boy whose life began with a lack of breath,
who, since he found his voice
rarely stops talking, who’s made of
sugar, steel and laughter

“That’s nice, honey,” I tell him, folding
his words and slipping
them into my back pocket
like a note I want to revisit later

Me? I’m scared of all sorts of things:
Showing up late. Wearing
the wrong outfit. Singing off-key.
Saying something off-color.
My kids getting hurt or worse — dying.
Mass shootings. War. Global warming.
Cockroaches in the house and maxing
out my credit card at Target.

Scared of success
and scared of failure.
Missed naps and moldy leftovers.
Scared of parties and public speaking.
Scared of home renovations
—but also scared of moving(?)—
literally anyone who rings our doorbell.
Tantrums at the grocery store. PTA meetings.
The cool moms at school pickup. Forgetting
a deadline. Forgetting
to return a text. Forgetting.

Scared of aging. Scared of dying.
Scared I won’t ever get to the point of this poem.

Scared of tornadoes.
Scared of blizzards.
Scared of men, when I walk alone
at night, midday or early in the morning.
Scared of running into ex-boyfriends,
that band teacher who despised me,
even scarier, my ex-best friend from high school.

Scared of weight gain. Scared of wrinkles.
Car crashes. Insomnia. Cancer.
Losing track of my kids anywhere,
especially near water.
Losing my husband, mother or father.

Scared I’ve said too much.
Scared I ate too much.
Scared of all the want inside me.
Scared how much I love my children.
Scared I’ve not been a good enough mother.

All this fear inside. Where does it come from?
What I wouldn’t give to soak up
some of wonder boy’s courage

Often I feel scared of writing
especially publishing.
Scared I’ll be judged.
Worse, no one cares.
Years of writing and I’m still scared
by all the rejection.

Then I think
of my son, and the world I want
him to inherit, a society steeped
in justice, peace and kindness.

So I keep writing,
keep chasing truth and beauty,
keep confronting my fears on the page,
emerging
braver and stronger,
keep penning hope
into a world riddled
by brokenness.

Return to running

In my early twenties, I lived for running. In college, I jogged through campus and ran the backs of Cambridge while abroad. After graduating I ran 5ks, then half marathons and even triathlons. For three seasons, I was a girls running coach. I frequently ran the Chicago lakefront.

Then I stopped.

I stopped running consistently because I got pregnant with my son, and my morning sickness was horrible. I stopped calling myself a runner because I wasn’t—and even after I gave birth and was cleared to workout I only ran in fits and starts. Pregnancy was hard on my body; I wasn’t ready.

Now, as summer turns to autumn, I’m finding I’m craving running more than ever before. It was a hard summer, I’m ready to let go of all that’s passed and embrace the change in season. I’m ready for crisp, cool mornings and cozy sweaters, shorter days and longer nights, warm meals and pumpkin spice everything. And I’m ready to run.

Movement—whether running or yoga or other forms of exercise—has always kept me grounded. Returning to running has been like reconnecting with an old friend: my feet bound along the path, my heart warms, breath quickens, eyes open wide. As I run, I drink in the exquisite beauty of the world around me. This is why I love running. It makes me come alive.

Autumn has landed. Change is coming. What do you need to let go of? What do you need to hold onto or rediscover to stay grounded amid transition?