How Quickly We Forget

The Force is strong in my family. The worrying force, that is. There were many nights when my brother was in high school that BOTH my mother and I lay awake in our respective beds late at night when he was not yet home, imagining hideous scenes.

Motherhood, of course, has done nothing but magnify this problem. And today, for the first time ever, I did not know where my daughter was, which led to the deepest, most fearful worry I've yet endured in my life. I was running a bit late to pick her up, and was startled to arrive at her caregiver's and find an empty house with no car in the driveway. I called the cell phone. No answer. I looked in vain for a note. And then, even though the rational part of me was sure there was some rational explanation, I panicked. How would I even begin trying to find her? Where would I go? Where would I call? In the age of cell phones, how was it possible that I couldn't get in touch with them?

And then she returned home. With her babysitter, my mother. The one who passed on the worrying gene to me.

(Natalie is also fully recovered from her illness, BTW.)