Protection

Before Herself left to go on the five-day trip with Offspring the First, she was careful to prepare everything properly at home.  She washed every possible scrap of laundry, so that the menfolk -- her Beloved and Offspring the Second and Third -- would not have to do so during her absence.  She stocked the cupboards and refrigerator with easily prepared foods that would appeal to the menfolk.  She paid the bills that were pending.  She typed up instructions regarding care of all of the pets.  She reminded her Beloved as to the whereabouts of her will and of the envelope of letters to be distributed to her family and close friends in the event of her untimely demise.  She tidied up loose ends.

Finally, she compiled a list of phone numbers that Offspring the Second or Third, or possibly her Beloved, might require in the event of an emergency:  mother-in-law, Beloved's assistant at work, doctor, vet for the dogs, vet for the other small critters, a close family friend who would be available if needed.  And in an abundance of caution, she e-mailed the list of phone numbers to the family friend as well.

Excessive preparation?  Quite possibly.  Why?  The picture is becoming clear as Offspring the First's inevitable departure for college approaches.

Last night, Herself mentally prepared a list of mundane things Offspring the First will need for her dorm room.  Beyond the ordinary clothes, linens, lamps, computer, miniature fridge, and so forth, she will need a tool box (as Herself's father prepared for her when she went off to college); laundry supplies; a few cooking implements and snack food; and a first aid kit.

The first aid kit.  It makes Herself unimaginably sad.

Herself knows that she will be a minimum nine-hour drive away from Offspring the First.  It is incredibly far.  What if Offspring the First needs something?  What if she has a headache or a splinter?  What if she needs a band-aid?  Or what if it rains and she has no umbrella?  These are tiny things that Offspring the First will have to handle by herself from now onwards.  What if something harder to address happens?  In ordinary life, so many ordinary things can go wrong.  Herself wishes for a fleet of guardian angels to look after her beautiful, joyful, tender-hearted daughter.  Please, keep her from harm.  Prevent the evils of Humankind and the tragedies of the World from arriving upon her doorstep.  Look over her. Protect her.

 For Herself, the thought of being unable to assist the people who are so important to her, particularly if she is not nearby to help, is a fearsome, visceral horror.  She does all she can to ward off problems in advance.  Thus, the first aid kit for Offspring the first:  it is an "I am not with you but here is what will help you" kit.  Similarly, the emergency numbers list for the menfolk: it is, in effect, an "I am not with you but you can find help in these people" list.  

Herself understands that her loved ones, family and friends alike, are all smart, capable people, and are able to solve problems and enlist aid as required.  She knows that her presence is not really ever necessary; they manage perfectly well without her. Nevertheless, crouching in the darkest corners of Herself's psyche are bleak shadows from terrible moments in which she felt abandoned, alone, without help.  She would willingly make untold sacrifices to ensure such demons do not take up residence in the lives of her loved ones. 

Herself knows that she must conquer her demons.  Now that she recognizes them, she will be able to lay them to rest by embracing them with love and understanding.  Nevertheless, she assiduously erects barriers to prevent them from roosting elsewhere.  She does all she can to protect her loved ones.  She only hopes it will be enough.