Day 10: Something I'm Afraid Of

Though I generally do not consider myself a fearful person, there were many ideas that crossed my mind when starting today's entry.

I am afraid I will be single forever.

I have an irrational fear of pool vacuums.Actually, I am afraid of most anything underwater.

I am afraid I will never get married - wait, did I mention that already?

I am afraid I may never finish school. Or at least it feels that way.

I am afraid of bugs.

However, I didn't feel like writing much about those. Well, I thought about the fear of never getting to spend the rest of my life with my true love, but I already know all the cliches and reassurances by heart - and usually believe them - so why waste my breath typing?

I am afraid of not playing.

Sounds odd, perhaps. But I love to play! And unfortunately, it's not something I get to do often. I'm not talking about board games or toys or with my kitten. I'm talking person to person - grown-up to grown-up - playing.

When we're little, we can spend hours lost in a world with our friends, just playing. We pretend, we imagine, we create, we have adventures. We run and laugh and love and dare. We play!

Grown-ups forget that a lot. We go and do stuff, but there always has to be something to 'do.' But when I think back on some of my favorite moments, we didn't have anything to do, we just did. We played!

Sometimes you're taking a walk, and suddenly, for no discernible reason, you are running, and it turns into a game of chase. Or you're standing around and two of your friends swoop in, grab you off your feet, and run away with you laughing and kicking. Sometimes it's a hug that turns into a tackle. It could be a game of chicken in the pool, or a sudden random photo expedition around campus, or a tickling attack, or unexpected tag.

Or maybe you're outside on a grassy field with the dog and some sticks, and suddenly the sticks are swords, and you start to fight. Just like when you were little, if something gets chopped, you pretend it has really fallen off and do your best to stumble around without it, trying to reduce your opponent to a squirming, helpless torso that writhes on the ground as you close in for your final attack. You both end up rolling around on the grass, wrestling and laughing and gasping for air until all you can do is stare up at the sky, panting and enjoying the friendship.

Other people may stare at you funny for being in your 20s and acting like 3rd graders, but who cares?

I am afraid of losing this. Already, I have very few friends who will play with me. It's not a priority for most people. And there's a fear in bringing it up- "Will you play with me?" just sounds odd, and part of the joy is spontaneity.

I treasure the moments I get to play, and I fear not getting more.