...And Hunting Monsters

"What are you doing?" Jared asked as I crouched over our hurricane-warped floors and peeled up our bedskirt.

"Looking for monsters," I replied.

In addition to being an overly sassy answer to a perfectly harmless question, my response happened to be (part of) the truth. I have been facing monsters lately, and--thanks to Sandy--a few of them washed up under my bed.

When we're kids, we lose sleep to the big, growling creatures lurking in the dark. We arm ourselves with teddy bears and blankets, but one little noise, one creak, one shadow and all our talismans are powerless: we're sure the monsters have found us. And then--hallelujah--someone turns on the light, and everything's ok. Our rooms look just like they did in daylight. The monsters may still be there, but the fear goes away.

That's kind of how I feel.

Yearly mammograms. Cautious dieting and exercise. Pink pajamas. Doesn't matter. Eventually, breast cancer found my mom (and in October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. How cliche). She meant to tell me in person, but I figured it out on my own just before a planned trip home, leaving me one night to spend alone considering all the different shapes this particular beast could take. But then I saw her again and it was just like someone had turned on the light. The monster was still there, but everything else looked as it had before.

Then fortunately (or maybe unfortunately; it's hard to say) I was home in Florida when the hurricane hit New Jersey (why yes, that is ironic). I  got to watch the destruction from the comfort of my safe, dry hometown while I waited for a flight back to NJ. That's rather like watching Jaws on the way to Martha's Vineyard. I knew when I got back to Jersey the monsters would be waiting. No power: ugh, my fridge.  Flooding: ugh, my stuff. No heat. No hot water. Ugh. Ugh. Ick.

Even as I faced one monster, others loomed in my mind. In fact (this is embarrassing) I was so sure my fridge would be a spoiled, disgusting mess, I refused to open the door for...well, longer than I should have. I convinced myself that that was one monster I definitely couldn't beat. But I couldn't put it off forever. So I opened the door, and the light turned on, and I remembered: I cleaned my fridge before I left.

Monsters in your rear-view mirror are always smaller than they once appeared.

P.S. One little monster was harmed in the making of this blog post. Elmo, the wrong-shade-of-red shag rug we never loved went out with the tide. RIP, Elmo rug.