Waking Up Scared

I woke up and saw fear staring me in the eye
a foreboding sense of doom as if destiny had marked this day -
black pages of a journal
penmanship scripted in red ink. 

On days like these I pull the covers close,
reset the alarm
and try to sleep my fears away. 

On the worst days, I tent myself beneath the shelter of the quilt
as if reality could not penetrate a few soft cotton fibers.
Thankfully the days in the tent are few -
the mornings prior to the digital alarm somewhat more disturbing
when the tick tock of the windup clock
resounded on my forehead like the water torture of Inquisition days. 

Twinkling stars within the black under my eye lids flash for a brief second
with the thought “you have nothing to fear but fear itself.” 

I peeked,
and fear itself was still there. 

Having faced this before
I forced my zombie-like shadow,
to place one foot after another
on the carpeted bedroom floor
inch to the bathroom
where I attempt to use the warm waters of the shower
to wash my fears away. 

Undaunted, both fear and I make the trek to work
where it becomes buried beneath workload piles.
I having inadvertently
followed the youthful Catholic edict to:
“keep my mind occupied by work or play.” 

The afternoon faded to an early evening
most adjacent office cubicles fallen quiet
the evening hush having seeped into
the hermetically sealed building.
I pushed the elevator button for the parking garage
half expecting my nemesis to appear
as the door opened
into the concrete vault which protected my auto. 

Instead my cell phone rang.
My son inquiring: 

“Are you going to be home in time for my Little League game, Dad?

Mom wants to know whether you will make it for dinner.”