A Cowardly Lion
Twice in my life can I remember being called brave. And I have a very clear memory of both occasions.
The first time was about 14 years ago. I was spending the night over at my best friend Jenny's house. Her cat, Squeaker (may he rest in peace), had brought an apparently living mouse in the house.
Jenny was always the beautiful princess of the two of us, and I was always the daring prince. The only other people in the house with us were her younger brother, Sammy, who must have been barely a year old, and her babysitter, Eloisa, who would always play with my hair and tell me how beautiful it was (about as long as it is now, but blonde and curly).
I, being the most adventurous of the kids, and not old enough to know better, chased the mouse out of the house while everyone else was screaming. I just thought it was fun, but Jenny kept proclaiming that I was so brave, and tried to orchestrate a hero's parade, with everyone carrying me on their shoulders, just how a little kid would think to reward bravery. Thing is, I didn't feel like I had been brave at all. I was just having fun and not really thinking about what I was doing.
The second time I was called brave was just a few weeks ago. We were all talking about going off to college, the most common topic since we found out we were actually going. There were a couple different conversations going on at once, and I overheard from the conversation behind me, a friend of mine say that I was so brave for going off to college by myself, without any of my friends.
The thing is, I'm not brave at all. I'm scared to death. Every time someone asks me about college, I respond with the obligatory "yes, I'm really excited", which is true. I'm really excited for college, for living on my own, for New Orleans, for Tulane specifically, for all sorts of things. But as excited as I am, that's only about 30% of what's going on. The other 70% is absolutely terrified. Not of living on my own; I've been taking care of myself in many ways since I was really little, and in almost all ways since I've been able to drive. I'm just afraid of being on my own. Far away from absolutely everything familiar, with my nearest acquaintances 500 miles away, and my close friends much much further.
I feel like I'm doing trapeze without a net. It's going to be really fun, and nonstop excitement, and as scary as it may be to be flying so high up, it'll be really awesome. But you know, a net would be nice. Just in case.
The first time was about 14 years ago. I was spending the night over at my best friend Jenny's house. Her cat, Squeaker (may he rest in peace), had brought an apparently living mouse in the house.
Jenny was always the beautiful princess of the two of us, and I was always the daring prince. The only other people in the house with us were her younger brother, Sammy, who must have been barely a year old, and her babysitter, Eloisa, who would always play with my hair and tell me how beautiful it was (about as long as it is now, but blonde and curly).
I, being the most adventurous of the kids, and not old enough to know better, chased the mouse out of the house while everyone else was screaming. I just thought it was fun, but Jenny kept proclaiming that I was so brave, and tried to orchestrate a hero's parade, with everyone carrying me on their shoulders, just how a little kid would think to reward bravery. Thing is, I didn't feel like I had been brave at all. I was just having fun and not really thinking about what I was doing.
The second time I was called brave was just a few weeks ago. We were all talking about going off to college, the most common topic since we found out we were actually going. There were a couple different conversations going on at once, and I overheard from the conversation behind me, a friend of mine say that I was so brave for going off to college by myself, without any of my friends.
The thing is, I'm not brave at all. I'm scared to death. Every time someone asks me about college, I respond with the obligatory "yes, I'm really excited", which is true. I'm really excited for college, for living on my own, for New Orleans, for Tulane specifically, for all sorts of things. But as excited as I am, that's only about 30% of what's going on. The other 70% is absolutely terrified. Not of living on my own; I've been taking care of myself in many ways since I was really little, and in almost all ways since I've been able to drive. I'm just afraid of being on my own. Far away from absolutely everything familiar, with my nearest acquaintances 500 miles away, and my close friends much much further.
I feel like I'm doing trapeze without a net. It's going to be really fun, and nonstop excitement, and as scary as it may be to be flying so high up, it'll be really awesome. But you know, a net would be nice. Just in case.