"Don't believe you're all alone."

Us
Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob

I've mentioned it before, but there's a line that I love from a song sung by my favorite musician, Andrew Bird, in a cover of a song by The Handsome Family. The song is called Don't Be Scared, and seems to be (at least to my ears) about a child who lives mostly in an internal world and who perceives our world differently. The line that always reminds me of Schuyler is this one:

"Don't be scared. Don't believe you're all alone."

I frequently think about Schuyler being alone, which is interesting only in that practically speaking, she is almost never actually alone in an immediate sense, aside from when she plays in her room by herself. Even then, I get a little nervous, because one of my greatest fears is that the seizures that she is statistically likely to develop could land on her while she's by herself, and the thought of her going through that for the first time without someone there with her makes me want to go roust her out of her bed this very moment and keep her by my side until I grow old and die, and not let her go one second before.

In a larger sense, I worry about what will happen to Schuyler after we're gone. I think about her having to make her way in this mean fucking world, and I almost can't stand it. It's funny how fear and love go hand in hand so often in our lives. The very act of opening up your heart to another human being can also reveal such vulnerability and rawness that to contemplate abusing it feels like imagining a murder. Or a suicide.

Yesterday I watched Schuyler charge through her little world as a reporter, a photographer and a videographer from the Dallas Morning News followed her around at school. I was once again reminded how easily she adapts to change, how in fact she thrives on it. Schuyler only seems to stumble when things become too routine; her world thrills her when it throws her curve balls.

I envy that about her. Last night, I attended a local music showcase and got to hang out with a newish friend whose media work I've always admired, and I had a great time being me for a change, not The Author or The Father or anything else. And yet, I was still aware the whole time of how shy and unwieldy I can feel in unfamiliar social situations. Sometimes I feel like Bigfoot, dressed up like a normal person and trying to fit in despite being, well, a big clumsy monster. It is in those moments that I appreciate Schuyler's breezy ability to embrace the world on her own terms.

In my dreams, Schuyler talks to me, telling me that things are going to be okay. I think she means more than just her own monster battle.