One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place. ~ Emily Dickinson
Growing up, in the fall of each year, the Jaycees staged a Haunted House. It was their big fund-raiser and everyone went, every year, except me. In the first place, I don’t like to be scared and in the second, I don’t need a haunted house to be scared silly, I have my own thoughts, and they work just fine, thank you very much! Ever since I can remember, I have been very, VERY good at these two games: “What If” and “Worst Case Scenario”. I AM the champ (key the Jeopardy music here).
I have been reading Mama Kat’s Blog periodically for a couple of months now and noticed her Writer’s Workshop, which intrigued me. So, after several weeks (’cause I’m nothing if not cautious), I signed up. So now, I get writing prompts via email each week, on Tuesday to be exact. Visit her for your own, It’s fun, really!
Anyway, I open them each week and there is usually one I like and I formulate in my head what I would say about it IF I wrote on the topic. I say IF because somehow, it’s easier to just watch from the sidelines. Because, really, I mean, What IF I somehow mess up, or, What IF someone actually READS it, and What IF I try to insert her cute little button that I’m sure she spent HOURS getting “just right”, and I can’t get it copied in here correctly and then she doesn’t like me even though I can figure out how to at least LINK to her blog, and she doesn’t even know me and I’m sunk before I ever even start!????? See?! LOTS of corridors to travel in this brain of mine!
I mean, seriously people, this is supposed to be FUN, right? What IF I can’t write on one topic per week? What IF I can’t keep up? What IF it doesn’t really matter? The haunting starts: now! Sheeesh!
The “What If” game follows me frequently. It is an equal opportunity stalker, crossing all barriers, it enters all territories: friendship, family, marriage, cooking, housekeeping, gardening, teaching, singing, my health, acting, parenting, you name it, I’m in!
However, the Grand Poobah of them all for me is cancer. The name of the Game is: Where and When Will It Strike Again? I am a survivor, nine years to be exact. For the type I had, “the question isn’t IF it will return, but WHEN and WHERE“. Those are the words out of the surgeon’s mouth that haunt me the most. I feel as if there is this evil, “lurking”, just waiting to pounce at the most inopportune of moments. I am vigilant about any abnormality I find. The stakes are high and I have intervened twice already to prevent further spread. The joke has become, “How many more body parts can you have removed?” I laugh along with everyone, but secretly, it’s not always funny to me. Secretly, I ponder, because really, What IF?