Watch Out For The Monsters, Herman.......

Since the days of cavemen humans have worn talismans when they went out and about in the world, believing they would be endowed with magical powers that would protect them from harm, and bring them home safely to their loved ones once again, and likewise, almost since the days dinosaurs roamed the earth, there must have been wives or mothers somewhere who told their husbands and children as they were leaving the cave in search of the great mammoth, "Be careful out there, the world is a dangerous place."

A desire to offer caution to the ones we love as they leave our protection, and go out to face the uncertain dangers of the world is a universal feeling. The illusion of any control we have to protect that person is ripped from us, and in an effort to send our protection with them we offer a few words of caution, a talisman, if you will: "Be careful, watch out for the traffic, don't rush, don't forget your umbrella, here's your jacket." What we don't say is, "Please, please, have a care with yourself, because I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

I always say, "The worst day of my life was the day my son backed down the driveway by himself for the fist time." Until that day I had never felt such lack of control over anything that was so precious to me. He was on his own and I could no longer protect him from harm. I felt a compulsion to give him a list of things he should and shouldn't do while he was behind the wheel, but of course I didn't do that. I compromised. From that day forward I always said the same few words each time he left the house, "Drive carefully, wear your seat belt, luv you." It was a prayer, a talisman. As long as I quickly uttered those words, he would return safely to me, and my life wouldn't be shattered by the unthinkable.

Now my husband, Herman, is retired and works part time driving a truck. I find myself making the same utterance to him each day as he leaves for work. It's akin to a baseball player touching his hat three times before going up to bat, or a football player wearing the same underwear for every major game.

Jacob, whom I write about often in this blog, is two and a half years old. His mom and grandmother and I went to the zoo on Friday. Herman couldn't go because he had to work. He didn't have to go in until 11 o'clock, so we left before him. As we were pulling away, I quickly uttered the words, "Drive carefully, wear your seat belt, luv you." Then I heard Jacob, sitting in the back seat, just above a whisper, say, "And watch out for the monsters, Herman." Is that the most amazing thing? He's only a baby, but he got it, and he offered his protection to Herman. There were lots of things he could have said: by Herman - love you, Herman - see ya, Herman, but that's not what he said. Instead, he told Herman to watch out for the monsters. Watch out for anything that may keep you from coming home safely to me.

Since the beginning of time, someone somewhere has been telling their loved one to watch out for the monsters. It means, I love you, don't make me go on without you, bring yourself back to me safely so I can exhale. It's the best advice you'll ever get, and the most loving. We never know where those monsters may be hiding, and sometimes, even when we see them clearly, we don't recognize them, for they may be in disguise. So, when you go out and about in the world, have a care, beware and watch out for the monsters!