Nov 19 2011
Darkness
The enemy
I thought I had cured my life-long fear of the dark at Phobia Boot Camp, aka living in a tent in my sister’s garden for six weeks while helping to take care of our slowly dying mother. Being in total darkness once you turn off the flashlight and hearing the various animals sneaking around in said darkness all night is like those immersion classes where you learn a new language by being surrounded by it and unable to escape.
Eventually, I got used to it, and now am practically like our father, who had to sleep in total darkness after years of blackouts during WWII in London. Even here in Hooterville, it’s earplugs and sleep mask for me. The light from the clocks, etc. bothers me.
So I figured I was over the fear of the dark thing. But it turns out that I’m really only over the fear of the inside dark thing. The outside is another matter.
It’s hard to explain how dark it is in Hooterville at night unless you’ve actually experienced it. There is no ambient light and no streetlights. Sure, it makes it possible to see millions or even zillions of stars, but it also makes it challenging to drive or walk in. At least, for me. Even with high beams on, you’re driving in a little puddle of light with blackness pressing in on you from all sides. And if it’s foggy, you can’t even use the high beams, since it just reflects back the fog.
“High beams” have been the biggest disappointment in my adult life since the discovery that painkillers do not kill pain.
Also? The moon can be incredibly bright in the sky, but no help at all.
So Megan decided to help me with remedial darkness driving. Knowing her sister as well as she does, there was a carrot at the end of the stick: the lesson ended with a drink at the Little River Inn’s bar. As I drove slowly through the darkness, it occurred to me that much of my life is remedial these days: swimming lessons, driving lessons. Will I ever be a real grown-up?