Boy has recently acquired a new nightly habit. He would switch on his own night light slightly before 10pm, and grab his little pillow through the bars of his wooden cot. He would then crawl to the living room, holding his pillow in his mouth as he needed his hands to crawl.
He looks like a cute little puppy whenever he does that. Highly adorable, and so very innocent.
Tonight, we heard fireworks being released somewhere not too far away. There were those familiar booming sounds, and craned our necks out the windows in desperate hope to see a few. No such luck. 😦
As I tucked him into bed, his room glowing a warm yellow from the night light, I heard the fireworks still going on.
It sounded like the end of the world. It was frightening.
I swore the earth shook and something scary was emerging from somewhere, waiting to devour everyone and put an end to the human race.
Or maybe, I was just having yet another panic attack.
I tried to think about the cute way he chewed with an audible “nomnomnom” sound when we were sharing tuna sandwiches for dinner. And the way he cheekily refused to let me hold his hand as we watched TV. And the way he laughed so heartily when I sneezed three times consecutively.
But it didn’t ease the fear away.
I don’t have an existential problem. I don’t think I ever would. What I do have a problem with, is how I have a fear of human existence coming to an end. It’s a feeling that has haunted me for years, and is gradually growing stronger as if it was getting closer to being reality.
It was not entertainment when I watched The Day After Tomorrow. It was fear. Gripping fear that left me breathless and pale. It is such a frightening movie that I would avoid watching it again.
I know that if one day something of massive destructive proportions was to happen, I probably would not run. I would cradle my baby in my arms and sing him his favourite lullabye as we part this world with the rest of the human race.