What Scares You?

Renee Maurice – I Started a Joke

 

There are smart women in my life who challenge me with what they are placing in front of me. I welcome them.

 

Shabbat. Noon. Sea. Everybody, except me, went out to get some air after the closure was removed. I prefer to take care of myself and not go out needlessly. My only need right now (and it was so from the beginning) is to see my beloved grandchildren face to face, hug and kiss them, but it will have to wait until all of it passes. It is still necessary to be careful. I’m not afraid of myself, because I’m immunized to all kinds, but I have no desire to infect any of my loved ones. I’m afraid it’s not safe to walk through the streets, even if you’re protected, wearing a mask and any other protection. Still, someone infected may pass ahead of you and you are doomed. No one knows for sure that the virus doesn’t pass through the air, so until proven otherwise – I’m careful the best I can.

 

As I sat on the balcony to breathe some air, I knew she would pop up. “What scares you?” The princess asks, looking at me with her big, curious eyes, watching the cup of coffee I’m holding I my hand and trying to drink.

“Me?” She nods at me as I try to bind my thoughts towards an answer. I don’t like to speak off the cuff and advocate that a reply needs thinking first. It takes time. She is very patiently silent. She has time. Me to. Where do we have to hurry to? She watches a bird squinting fiercely at her friends as she stands on the date tree, which the well-known worm has eaten it all from the inside, causing it to shed all its leaves. The bird looks back at the princess and I imagine how they have a telepathic dialogue between them. Unlike me, the bird can perceive the princess even without speaking loudly. “I have no idea,” I reply after a deep thought. “I can’t think of anything that scares me.”

 

“You’re brave!” The princess admires, still in eye contact with the bird.

“Not at all! What are you talking about? What courage is there?” I wonder in her ears.

“You said you can’t think of anything that scares you,” the Princess echoes my words accurately, “so that means you’re brave.” ‘Each one with her own conclusion’, I ponder, forgetting for a moment that the princess is able to read my mind. “That’s right,” she replies, “and that’s my conclusion from what you said.”

 

In one sentence:

The princess makes my grey cell work overtime. That’s good, even if I’m not a ballet dancer, it still helps to keep me on my toes.

Hallucinating words

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