When I was younger I had this often irrational fear of the dark. I especially didn't like looking toward the windows at night. I was always afraid I might see a face or something there. I liked that we pulled the curtains at night in our house. Last night as I sat at my desk marking papers I thought I heard something outside and that old fear returned. I told myself I hadn't heard anything. After all, I had music playing and the furnace had just come on. That wasn't any kind of snuffling or scraping sound I heard out there. I didn't look toward the window. I just kept working. It really didn't help my overactive imagination that I had started reading Skeleton Creek by Patrick Carman over the weekend. If you've read the book, you understand what I'm referring to! Dismissing my fears as silly, I went back to marking papers and by the time I went off to bed I'd forgotten all about it.
This morning when my husband woke me up he told me, "We had a visitor last night." The bird feeder pole was bent over and the feeder was empty. After nearly two years of living here and having a feeder we have to start taking it in at night.
Perhaps I would gotten to see the bear if I had never been scared of the dark.