To End Anxiety

         I held my hands tight, gripping onto the very last piece of my anxiety.

This too shall pass.

         Funny, when Reverend McKinney spoke of the troubles passing I don't believe this is the circumstance he had in mind. Growing up in a small town in the bible belt of America you learn valuable skills that invoke older people to look at you and say, "well, isn't she such a sweet young lady". Living in the religious centerfold of America you learn the "yes ma'ams" and "no sirs". Respect becomes second nature or the back of a hand becomes imprinted on your right cheek.

         Every Sunday, every person has their seat. The reverend's family always on the front right. No matter how many churches you enter, no matter the denomination the family will always be on the front row. Behind the revered family will sit the most astute learners of the faith, the old ladies who are closest to God because as everyone knows, they are going to be destined to meet him prior to anyone else. The second or third row is where the shusher will claim their territory. The marking of a shusher will include a 50 year old hand fan, werthers caramel wrappers, and the half empty box of tissues. Row three is where we meet the antagonist of my tale. Row three sitting adjacent to the woman who yells and considers herself whispering, resides Ms. Wittherbottom.

          Don't get me wrong, she wasn't always the church's shusher. She used to be nice. She would ask how your grades were, and when your next piano recital would be in her area. She was nice until the fall.
          It was a cold winter day and church was still scheduled even though people claimed that snow was on its way. The service began and just as soon as it did the snow began to fall. Halfway through the service the snow melted. During the communion however, the melted snow turned to ice. After the service, was to be a luncheon of sorts in the fellowship building next door and I wanted to beat Jeff Flanders. So naturally, I ran. I ran straight to the open door and straight into Ms. Witherbottom.

          It all flashed before my eyes. I had the opportunity to save this poor old woman and do what was right in the eyes of all West Chesterfield. I could insure that she wouldn't break her hip, legs, face and need months of physical therapy by holding out my arm and letting her use me as support in the final seconds before the ice took her as it's first victim. I could have saved her, but, there was dinosaur chicken nuggets in the fellowship hall. So rather than helping prevent the fall, I used her cane as a make shift pole vault.

          She was taken to the hospital as soon as I had grabbed two T-rexes and three pterodactyls. The next night, my family was on call to visit Ms. Witherbottom. My heart began to race as the hour hand on the clock slowly crept to 7pm. I had to do something before my family found out the truth behind the fall. I borrowed my mom's Ford Explorer claiming to be getting materials for a school project. As I pulled into the hospital my hands started shaking. I had to do something and fast.

          I found the information desk and used my best respectful tone and got the room number for the room that held my fate. As I made my way to her recovery room, I didn't know what exactly I would tell her. I didn't mean for her to break won many bones, it just kind of happened. My nerves were getting the better of me. My heart began to feel as though it were going to beat out of my chest as I entered her room. I grabbed a pillow from the closet and held it tightly over her face allowing the last of my anxiety to slip away.