Death Threats and Dirty Diapers

It was difficult to swallow almost twenty minutes later. The venomous threat that an oddly connected, pseudo-parent, drug dealing, boyfriend type wanna be gangster hurled at me yesterday took some time to sink in. In fact, it might just be sinking in now. I feel a little sick. At the time I played it cool, and followed through on what you might imagine the typical response might be...a three digit phone call, and some feigned poise, followed by a calm, almost dismissive decompression and exit. It wasn't the first time that I'd been threatened at work. Disgruntled parents and guardians sometimes do that. I've probably been closer to seeing my life flash before my eyes -- a past memory of gun metal and anxiety fueled adolescent anger comes to mind -- but never before has someone looked me in the eye and threatened to end my life. That's just sinking in now. It's a little uncomfortable.

My friend Betz has a few stories, and I've found myself in more than a few places where the intersection of what you're trying to manage rests a little uncomfortably with other people's desperation...from a basement homeless shelter to a gang rehabilitation center in East La... but for some reason this one struck me as significant. I dunno why.

On my drive home I posted the nonsensical event to my Facebook, and found a kind outpouring of shock, support, and awkward offers to straighten the felon out. It was comforting, and I suspected the event would be gone from my mind by morning. It isn't. For some reason it's stumbled back into my my mind and has me a little unnerved. It certainly hasn't rendered me fearful, but cautious. It reminded me of the assumptions that I make on a daily basis, and of the trust I dole out to people. I turn corners too closely when leaving buildings, pay no attention to empty rooms or open doors, and I never, ever, worry about those six degrees of separation that we would all best consider if we were exercising our best foresight. Now I may a little more.

The man is gone, hauled off, and in breach of this court order or that one, a previously convicted felon, so he's very likely going away for quite awhile, but you still worry...a little. Of course, I have friends. There are any number of kids I could ask to commit any number of crimes and they very likely would, and then laugh at how "dope" the oh shit guy done got, but that's such a ridiculous notion that I'm giggling as I type. It's the truth, but funny...too, too terribly funny. I have met and now know enough people, have helped enough people that I feel very much valued, and accepted, and cared for in some pretty bad neighborhoods and institutions, but it still doesn't offer you the ease of having never heard those words uttered in your direction.

I'm good, but I'll remember the day.

Strangely enough, despite the worst of days I still have to slide home to a doting daughter, and what appears to be less and less dirty diapers. It's not all that strange to come home to a day that only saw one diaper pulled out of the box, and that makes for a strange & proud transition. From death threats to dirty diapers...wrap your head around that? I'm trying to. I'm desperately trying to.