I remember when I was in second grade and noticing that my step father had been in a serious dark mood at home for about a week. I didn’t know what it was but my dad was watching alot more news than usual. He also wasn’t talking very much at dinner. Very uncharacteristic of him.
Then one day in the same dark mood, my father went into the kitchen to talk to my mother about something. He was talking for awhile in a very somber and serious tone. I was in the bathroom cleaning up for supper. As I entered the kitchen I got the tail end of their conversation as my father said to my mom, “All they have to do is push that button and the whole world blows up.”
Hearing my father say that and the mood he had been in for days freaked me out! I took what he said literally. I actually thought there was a button somewhere that if pushed would blow up the world. I thought about someone bumping it or dropping something on it or leaning against it. Why is there a button to blow up the world?
I never asked my father or anyone else about that button. It was as if knowing about it was wrong, or bringing it up at all was out of the question. My father even kept it to himself, which just re-enforced my feelings to shut up. Besides if we all pretended real hard maybe no one would touch it.
But for years I would occasionally worry about that button. I learned early to appreciate each day one at a time. “Well we made it through this one.” “I hope that button doesn’t get pushed today I’m going to Disneyland.