While talking on the phone with my mother one day, we discussed how I would be notified should any of my family members or good friends back home died. While these are legitimate discussions, once I hung up, I went on a jog and played out other scenarios in my head.
What if my brother killed someone in a car accident?
What if my dogs died?
What if someone found out they had cancer?
What if Dad got hurt in a SWAT situation?
This last question is the subject of my most recent children's script, believe it or not. I suppose it's always been a fear of mine, and the resulting course of action never changes: I'd go find him. Life-threatening or not, that would be the one incident that would send me home faster or as fast as death. If it was a life-threatening scenario, the reason is obvious. If not, that is one story I wouldn't miss. I'd walk if I had to, I think, to hear his account of the thing. Me and my dad have a relationship built on stories and sports television. It would be incredibly unfair if I didn't get to see him just because of something as trivial as distance.
But anyway, the whole thought of not being able to see my family during times of need really bothers me. Last night, my grandma went into the hospital. It turned out to be not-so-serious, but I felt the 1800 miles between here and Rock(Is)land like 1800 punches in the stomach. Too stressful. Too isolating. It's not even that I was worried about a worst-case scenario, it's that I was not there to help. Any information was delayed, through text message or phone call, and I felt truly helpless, almost like a nuisance, begging for news. This distance will always feel a little unsafe, I think.
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