Shaking my Head
I do this thing where I shake my head if I have a scary thought or dream. If you know me, you may have seen me sitting there shaking my head for no apparent reason, or in response to something that doesn't warrant a head shake. It's not a bold, neck-breaking shake. It's just a small, quick turn of the head. More symbolic to me than anything else.

I have a very vivid imagination. I see everything like a movie in my head. When I think, it's less a thought pattern and more of a series of images and sounds that I 'see' and 'hear' to myself. I can have entire conversations with people in my head. Academy Awards have been won for the movies going on in my brain.

We already knew I was a little strange. Not to worry.

Sometimes pictures or images pop into my head that I don't particularly like or want to happen. Sometimes the train of thought makes that happen, like it leads to something I didn't expect to be related to where I started. Or sometimes it's a dream or sudden unexpected thought that comes out of nowhere. So I shake my head in defiance, sending a message out to whoever may be watching that the thing I just saw should never come to be.

Last night I had a really scary dream. When I was finally able to wake up from it, I shook my head. I wasn't fully awake, but I had to say 'no' to what I'd just seen. I don't want what I dreamed to happen. Even though my dreams have never been prophetic in any way, shape, or form, I don't like to take any chances that they could start being prophetic.

I don't think I started doing this until after my sister died. I think we've all had a moment throughout our lives when we childlishly wanted our siblings to be gone. Not dead, but just not around so that we don't have to share a toy, or our parents' affection, or the spotlight. I was frequently annoyed with my little sister. She was always the attention getter, much cuter than I ever was, and with a personality that drew people to her. Sometimes I wished that we hadn't found her again that time we misplaced her for a few minutes at Wet n' Wild. She wasn't really lost, but she made a scene like she was. And when we 'found' her she was royalty for the rest of the day. I was just wet.

Or I'd long to ship her off to my grandparents for Christmas and ask that they keep her. They seemed to like her, and she could be useful around the house or in the garden. She had tiny hands and fingers good for reaching into tight places to pick lima beans. Plus, I needed her room to store my Legos. Really, I had everyone's best interests in mind.

Of course, I never really meant it. Considering all the times we moved from city to city, and all the occassions when my sister was my only friend, had I really sold her to traveling gypsies for more Lego money, I would have missed out on precious time with a precious person. She needed me, I needed her. I looked out for her, she found safety with me. She was afraid of the swimming pool unless she could be in the water riding piggyback on my back. She screamed when we'd fly on a plane unless I was there to hold her hand, even when we were older. I'd roll my eyes about those things. Yet to be completely truthful, I actually kinda liked having her around, and didn't mind playing the part of protector.

But big sisters are supposed to be annoyed by little sisters. It's what we do. So in typical big sister fashion, I always kept my eye out for opportunities to send my sister around the world in a hot air balloon. After all, she would have loved the pretty balloon colors, and she did always want to see the world. . .

Then one day she was gone. For real. And I shook my head, I think for the first time in response to something I didn't want to happen. But, it was too late.

I know that shaking my head does nothing to save anyone or anything, in all reality. And I know that any of the silly thoughts I ever had as a kid about wanting to trade her to the neighbors for a hamster had absolutely nothing to do with her untimely departure from us.

But I think that's why I shake my head. The bad things that happen are out of my control, and I don't like that. It's been proven to me on more occassions than I would prefer to experience. And even still, I really struggle with letting God be in control.

I don't have a choice. I can't save the world. I can't even save my little sister at the most critical moment. I couldn't offer a piggyback ride or hold out my hand to get her through. It wasn't up to me. I will never be in control over the things that take place in my life, or the lives of those I love. I have to let go.

But I'll probably keep shaking my head, hoping that God and I are on the same page about the things I don't want to happen, and trusting that even if we aren't, it will all be okay someday.

C.T.