35. Benjamin Franklin And His Fish.

“I believe I have omitted mentioning that in my first voyage from Boston, being becalmed off Block Island, our people set about catching cod and hauled up a great many. Hitherto I had stuck to my resolution of not eating animal food, and on this occasion, I considered with my master Tryon the taking of every fish as a kind of unprovoked murder, since none of them had or ever could do us any injury that might justify the slaughter. All this seemed very reasonable. But I had formerly been a great lover of fish, and when this came hot out of the frying pan, it smelt admirably well. I balanced some time between principle and inclination, till I recollected that when the fish were opened I saw smaller fish taken out of their stomachs. Then thought I, if you eat one another, I don’t see why we mayn’t eat you. So I dined upon cod very heartily and continued to eat with other people, returning only now and then occasionally to a vegetable diet. So convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind to do.”

- Benjamin Franklin, excerpt from Autobiography

34. Mom, Please Don't Leave Me, And I'm Sorry.

What is that phobia called? When you’re scared to death that your mom will…well, die. You’re scared that she’ll drop to the floor at the most unexpected moment.
Whatever this phobia is called, I’ve been experiencing it pierce through my mind ever so often for the last few years. I find myself sobbing during class because I would suddenly have a gut-wringing sensation called Worry.
Today, my mom walked into my room at around 5pm, inquiring my desire for a driving lesson. She said she had time to spare, since our family was planning to eat out tonight. I said, “Yes Mom, yes of course.” I told my friend on AIM that I was going out for a drive, so he told me to be safe. I gave a quick “kk” and left the house.
Now I sit here with a mild headache. It’s not from getting my face bashed into the steering wheel. It’s from the overwhelming reruns of Regret. I replay the moment, over and over and over again.
I could have slowed down…
I could have breaked faster…
I could have spared the car…
What have I done?
I could have slowed down…
I could have breaked faster…
I could have spared the car…
Why did she ask?
I could have slowed down…
I could have breaked faster…
I could have spared the car…
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she broke her leg?
What if she died?
What if she fell into a coma?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
WHAT IF SHE DIED?
I wouldn’t know because she didn’t.
But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still going to fear her death until she really dies.