Face Your Fears

Fireflies, just getting ready to take the stage for their evening show, began randomly popping up around the yard like corn kernels. Dusk was settling in and getting comfortable on the hill by the lake. Summer existed in its prime. Nestled in the woods, this cottage setting usually would have made me quite happy and content.

Yet, I had an unsettling feeling that I was going to be glad for some familiar company this night. Maybe a premonition? I tried to shrug it off.

My mom must have sensed my restlessness because she suggested heading out for a stroll with my seven-year-old cousin, Pepper, to explore the perimeter. We were dodging mosquitoes and admiring the masonry of the stone walls, when the sound of screeching tires came barreling over the bank. Our heads instinctively spun around on our necks as we urgently sought to discover the reason for the crashing madness unfolding at the edge of the front lawn. We were quite startled to discern two trucks nearly colliding at the end of the driveway.

The sound of the brakes echoed. Afraid that I might see a child struck by one of the vehicles, or maybe fearing the untimely end to the beloved fawn that made its dinner migration through my yard each night, I hesitantly peered out through squinted eyelids.

Whatever my real trepidation was, I didn’t have time to contemplate further; for into clear view came a sizable black bear lumbering leisurely up the driveway, its shoulders rising and falling in a swelling, wavelike motion. Its back haunches followed suit in a grand crescendo.

For almost being walloped by two trucks, Mr. Bear didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to leave the site of his narrowly escaped death. His pace slowed further as he neared the blueberry bush that the birds had already picked over. He sniffed at it a few times, turned his nose up into the air, and like syrup falling into sticky slowness, began to meander between the hemlocks and into the forest tucked behind the garage...disappearing into the distance.

No one said a word as we stood there watching, motionless. Some moments are burned into your memory forever. This was one of them.

As I felt a little hand squeeze mine, I suddenly remembered that Pepper could be set into the verge of delirium over bears. She often made it a point to rhetorically ask aloud in the car on extended road trips, “Bears, are you out there?” To which, in her “bear voice,” she politely answered for the large critters, “Yes.” Her “yes” always had a routinely frightened inflection at the end.

With this memory in mind, I tried to act clandestine, so as to not alarm Pepper. My mother and I silently exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. I thought I could interpret her thoughts, and in this state of x-ray mind reading, she said to me, “Let’s get inside NOW!”

I scooped up my little cousin, pretending to surprise her with a piggy-back ride. She didn’t protest. The three of us dove around the corner of the house and ducked back inside through the rickety basement storm door.

“Ready for a movie and some bear paw ice cream?” I asked out of breath, but still trying to maintain the innocent ploy of diversion.

My mom shot me a look that said, “Do you always have to stick your foot in your mouth?”

I just shrugged and tried not to roll my eyes, certain that a second grader wouldn’t make a connection between the trendy ice cream flavor and the events that transpired outside a few moments ago.

My estimation of children proved to be wrong again. The tiny one looked up at us with wide eyes and asked, “Why were we in such a hurry to come back in?”

My mother, trained in these matters from years of copious questioning by my brother and me, naturally responded, “Oh, honey…didn’t you see that black dog jump from the back of the truck? That’s why those drivers stopped so quickly. They were getting out and looking for the lost puppy. We don’t know what kind of dog that was…it’s better to come inside until they find the nice doggie.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I thought, convinced Pepper would never buy that brand of baloney.

“Do you think the dog bites?” Pepper mumbled.

Mom dutifully answered, “I doubt it, sweetheart. But, sometimes it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Can we get some ice cream now?” I chimed in, anxious to end these fabricated shenanigans.

“Yeah, can we, Aunt Jackie?” Pepper ricocheted.

Mom winked at me. I didn’t refrain from rolling my eyes at her this time. I couldn’t believe the cheese she just spewed all over us like crazy string from a can. I wondered how she came up with those sappy stories on the fly. But, I had to give her credit. Her charm worked on Pepper.

The stairs creaked as we made our way back into the safety of the cozy kitchen. “Bear paw ice cream it is!” my mom crooned in an obvious peace offering. I accepted. We settled down to a bowl of the gooey, melt-in-your-mouth goodness and a timely showing of “The Great Outdoors.”

I suppose somewhere in between the combination of “runaway doggie,” animal ice cream, and appropriate coming-of-age bear movie, Pepper managed to overcome her primal fear that night.

Sometimes facing your fears head on, even if unintentionally… is the best way to squash them.