I am afflicted at times with an unreasonable sense of endangerment.
Unreasonable, I realized today within the cells of my body -- and not just in my mind working so earnestly to self-assure.
Because I am back at home, or rather my home is back with me -- because my parents have come to visit. And both are healthy again and vigorous, full of plans for their future, my competent engineer father, my competent psychoanalyst mother, getting ready to put in their papers to serve an 18-month service mission wherever they're needed. And I am safe, sitting together with my Mom who knits and my Dad who reads. The songs (from cowboy to Christmas) have been sung and the guitar has been put away and Fritz and the children retired to their beds.
Another day, Safety, that you have rested here with me.
Another day the Nazis haven't shown up pounding at the door, the mobs have kept their torches unlit and stayed at home watching crime shows on TV. Another day that there is food on my shelves and no fire is falling from the sky.
Another day, Safety. And all the days that came before this when I thought you were about to leave, but you did not.
Thank you for staying here another day. I trust to see you again tomorrow.