I don’t know why, but I’m continually growing more afraid of heights. And falling from them. And landing.
I love a good view, especially from tall buildings or mountain ledges. I remind myself that I’m safe, and I work hard to shove my irrationality as deep into my gut as I can, to pretend it doesn’t exist.
When I was perhaps eight years old, I had my first vision of a fall. I imagined that my eyeglasses slid off the bridge of my nose and fell from the observation deck of the Empire State Building. Those with poor eyesight will admit how precious eyeglasses are, how they represent our connection with the world around us, and how losing them — at least for the first several hours — is like losing a member of the family. As a young boy, my “vision” of the end-over-end loss of my world was apparently too much for me, because ever since I have grown increasingly nervous at the edges of the world.
Today, it is hard for me to put my forehead against a top-floor window, to step onto a balcony, to stand at a high guardrail, and to climb a long ladder. I hide this from my kids, of course, because I know how awesome it is to see people the size of ants, and entire forests of fall colors, and shining mountain valleys. And yet every one of my possessions is twisted around my arms and wrists, gripped in my hands, and shoved deep into my pockets. Even my neck is tucked down a bit, like the head on a turtle, lest I lose my glasses. It’s like standing over sewer grating with my cars keys out: someday, I am convinced, they will fall into the cracks and never come back out.
Of course, I fear more for my kids than for myself. As a parent, I can’t allow myself to call these fears unfounded; Oren has fallen down stairs twice in three years, though without injury. I have grown to hate staircases, even two-step staircases, especially near the top ledge. And that’s not all. Once he plunged head-first over the couch into the floor. I don’t know which was worse: his falling, or my watching.
I have a whole new perspective of the world now that I have kids. It’s bigger, and a whole lot less flat.