Courage

Today, I realized that I am actually a little bit brave sometimes. Hopefully, this gives you a laugh.


Today, I stayed home sick. It wasn't a huge deal, just a miserable cough, the kind that feels like someone is cutting at your throat everytime you breathe. So I wussed out of school and slept most of the day, trying to ignore my pounding head and sniffly nose. In the afternoon, I was watching some Netfllix and lounging on a chair in the living room. It was the middle of the day when Dad walked upstairs in a gym outfit, said he'd be back in a bit, and walked out the door. Sometime later, I heard a beep down the hallway, followed by the electronic voice that said, "Basement Door Open," as I heard the basement door open and shut. "It's just Dad," I let myself believe, for a split second, until the door opened and closed again, at which point I looked out the window and thought a number of things simultaneously..
1) Dad's car was not at home.
2) A robber wouldn't come in our house at such a busy time of day (quickly followed by..)
3) it was not a busy time of day, our cars were gone, and it wasn't normal for me to be at home
[think Home Alone 3 here folks...]
4) Is Bella in the basement? Did they come in, take her, and leave?

At thought #4, I immediately sprang from my seat, grabbed the nearest weapon-usable item near me (which was a metal broom), and started to go towards the basement not sure of what I was doing...

that is, until dad walked upstairs and I realized that mom had his car, so he hadn't actually gone anywhere...

Feeling a little embarressed, I returned to my Netflix watching.

However, looking back on my day I have realized something. Even though, I was in no real danger, I seriously was convinced there was a robber/kidnapper in my basement (i'll blame this logic on sleep deprivation from sickness) and even though I was sure someone was down there, I wasn't go to sit around and wait for something to happen or hide from what was coming. Evidentally, when faced with danger and the option of fight or flight, I instictively choose to fight, which is not something that people would likely assume about me, or that I would assume about myself, but on reflection has been true for most of my life. Hopefully, this doesn't ever get me into trouble someday, but admitidly i'm just a little but proud of it.

So there you go. The story of how I almost hit my dad with a broom thinking he was a robber/kidnapper, because obviously that's the only logical explanation for the basement door opening...