Anticipation

The storm never came yesterday. At least not to my little corner of the deep dark northern suburbs of Chicago.

Which reminds me: why worry? The predictions of doom by meteorologists nationwide could not have been more dire. Bright swaths of color highlighted every television weather map; regular networks borrowed segments from the experts on The Weather Channel, clearly believing their own forecasters to be too wet behind the ears to handle the impending calamity.

I had nightmares about the oncoming storm to end all storms. To be sure, it was a welcome break from my usual nightmares about the storms raging in my own life; sometimes I actually feel as if I've been sucked into the vortex of a funnel cloud, my psychic belongings being tossed around like dollhouse furniture. But the frightening photos of a real tornado that obliterated half a town in Iowa and of the aftermath of twisters in Wisconsin reminded me to get a grip; things could be a lot worse.

Lately, my well-meaning but -- in my humble opinion -- overly zealous born again Christian friend has been sending me frequent inspirational emails about Anticipation (with a capital "A"). Not Carly Simon's version of anticipation, which worked well for ketchup ads, but the real deal. Anticipation in my friend's emails refers to the comfort we should feel as we contemplate what awaits us when this life is done. Well, call me a modern day Doubting Thomas, but screw that. I'm not going to waste any more of my time looking forward to something that might never happen.

Sure, I love a little anticipation (with a small "a") when it fills my head with positive thoughts. It's called looking forward to things; it's what gets me through the tougher days. But my mom always told me not to wish my life away, so I try really hard to find enjoyment in the present. Really hard, sometimes almost to the point of exhaustion.

And as to the anticipation of natural disasters and horrible accidents and other catastrophes, really, what's the point. It's not that I'm opposed to being prepared, but why waste time living in fear. Storms will come and go, and most of the time they won't be as bad for most of us as the prognosticators led us to believe. And if they are that bad, there probably isn't anything we can do about it. But the present moment can, every once in a while, be a fleeting bit of joy, so I try to pay attention. Why worry? Why miss out?