Flight or fright.

I was telling Mom about the Jodie Foster movie I watched last night: “Flight Plan”, which is about a woman who looses her daughter on an aeroplane. Mom reminded me of a time in Cape Town when I was a young child, and Dad took me and my brother Philip sailing in a keeler with a friend of his. Being too young to contribute to the nitty gritty of sails and ropes I became bored and went exploring. I found a great little nook right up in the nose of the boat, where the spare sails were kept. It was cosy and smelled of oily canvas and salt. I snuggled down and fell asleep. I remember waking to hear my father calling me. I was so sleepy and so cosy that I did not want to respond. I just wanted to be left alone. But he called and called, and eventually I responded. Philip crawled into my little spot and brought me out. I did not understand my fathers’ need to hold me on his lap the way he did when I emerged until this afternoon. Imagine what he endured in those moments when I did not respond to his call.

I was once walking in the park when my dog alerted me to a noise in the long grass. It was a small child, in a nappy, walking through the veld. I picked him up and took him home. The police had not had a report of a missing child, but after hours of nothing I called another police station and yes, there was a missing child reported. They gave me the telephone number of the man who had reported the loss. This man was so distressed that he was unable to take directions to my house. I had to meet him and bring him home with me. His wife had gone away for the weekend, and left him with their son. His friend had come to visit and in the moment of leaving the gate open the child had disappeared. What had gone through this mans’ mind in those hours while he was looking for his son?

My friend Jenni had a dog stolen from the park as she was about to get into her car. She never saw the little dog again. How has she survived this loss? How do parents survive the loss of children? I would far rather come home to a squashed dog or cat in the road than a missing dog or cat. I cannot begin to comprehend the love a parent has for a child, when I have such a deep love for my pets. How do parents let go of their children? Even to the point of allowing them to spend the night with a friend. When I was growing up we would leap onto our bicycles and disappear for the day, playing at the river or in the veld, only returning when the sun was dropping. Where did my parents think we were? Clearly they did not worry. But then perhaps then there were no reasons to worry like there are today.  

As adults we need to live more like children who live without fear. This fear that I refer to is not the fear that keeps us safe, which is a healthy fear, but rather the fear of the “what if”‘. This is the fear that keeps us from being all we can be. This is the fear that prevents us from taking risks and moving beyond the safety of our comfort zone. Recently a friend of mine relocated with her new partner to Napier. They had never lived together, neither had they really looked at the house they were moving t. One had a young and boisterous dog and the other had aging cats who were not used to dogs. Yet they both got into their cars and took on the adventure of their lives. What if they had listened to the “what ifs”?  They simply would have not gone.

What has the fear of the “what if” got to do with missing children and pets? I am not sure. It is late and I am rambling.  But I do know that there are a lot of “what ifs” that go through my mind whenever I leave my home, whether it is to take the dogs for a walk or to leave my home and pets in the care of a house sitter when I am away.  We are so vulnerable and our lives can change in a heartbeat. No wonder we fear. I am grateful that I do not have children because the “what ifs” that would consume me would do just that: consume me.