I have been on so many flights in my lifetime I wouldn’t even begin to assume that I could count them all.  In all that time I don’t remember ever being afraid of flying.

I am now.

Fully, completely, hand holding while praying afraid of flying.  Its not the actual flying, I guess.  Its the potential of mishap that lurks on the edges of my consciousness.  That’s what scares me.  You know why?  It’s the little blonde girl sitting next to me in the pink car seat.  When it was just me on the plane I never gave two thoughts to the problems that we could encounter.  But with that Boo Boo sitting next to me all I can think about is her future and everything she gets to do in her life.  I think about her daddy and all the people we love.  I think and think and think and think.

Thinking is bad in those situations.  In most situations, actually.  I’m not just afraid of flying now, I don’t like cars so much.  Not ours, but the fact I can’t control what any of the other ones are doing.  And stairs.  Balconies.  Elevators.  It’s insane.  I know that part of it is the lack of safety I have felt since the shooting, feeling that no one is safe from anything (charming isn’t it?) But I think most of it is just being a parent.  I am aware of dangers that I never realized were there.  She could really hurt herself climbing out of her crib.  Yes, she could climb out and be fine, but there is a chance that she could fall the wrong way and land on her neck.

Freaking you out, am I?  Well, I’m just saying what every parent has thought at one point or another.  It’s terrifying loving someone so much and knowing that I can’t protect her from EVERYTHING.  Cause man, I love her a lot.

The shooting also taught me that what will be will be.  We can’t change it so why live life in fear? But a piece of me always will when it comes to that little girl.

So, we’ll take another flight and there will be more balconies and stairs.  Everything will probably be fine.  And I’ll still be insane.