We stick together.

"I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself." ~D.H. Lawrence

Today I saw a group of squirrels flying from branch to branch, effortless and free.  They weren't scared, or worried, or held back by questions of "what if?".  They did not fear the unknown, or perhaps, they are simply unaware of it.  Either way, their acrobatics left me thinking about anticipation and worry, and how those emotions can both prepare us and defeat us.

I worry all the time, about schedules, events, parties, and presentations.  As soon as something pops onto my calendar, I begin to worry about it.  What do I need to do to be ready?  What if something goes wrong?  Sometimes, it's just a small twinge in the pit of my stomach.  Other times, it's more like a freight train, and I feel like I'm unable to get out of the way.  I like to keep my options open.  I'll scope out the lecture hall ahead of time or I'll create an excuse to have ready in case I feel I need to sneak out early.  My worries can both help and hinder.  They help me prepare, to anticipate possible questions and problems.  But, they prevent a lot of natural enjoyment.  In most cases, once I've gotten someplace and settled in, I'll usually relax enough to have some fun, but I know I practically ruin it for myself every time.

I'd resigned myself to this some time ago.  But recently, I've been seeing some of myself in my son.  Big Brother Badger worries about seeing a new doctor, about school plays, about first classes, about meeting new people.  Essentially, he worries about unknown situations.  Like me, he only feels comfortable once he's gauged the situation and understands not only his role in it, but how it appears.  Once the first class is over, or the first act has finished, he has seen the location and the people there.  He can picture it in his mind, and a lot of fears subside.  I understand this only too well.  The unknown becomes known, or at least somewhat predictable.

So here we are, two worriers.  I can't even blame Daddy River Badger.  In the back of my head, I truly wish BBB didn't share this particular trait of mine.  But, since he does, I can be thankful that he has a kindred spirit to hold his hand and to understand where he's coming from.  Those squirrels may not have to worry about self-esteem, or failing, being wild things.  Or maybe they were just finding strength in being with their own kind.  Me and my boy, we stick together.