It’s been a while since I’ve lain awake in the dark, a rock on my chest, mother fear swirling so hard I can barely breathe. I try to tell myself that fears are only imaginings, and whatever comes down the pike will be met and survived anyway. Still, I cannot bear the thought of my children’s hearts at risk, as if I can bubble wrap them and spare them life’s pain. I wish I weren’t brooding on the fact that my sunshine daughter seems to be struggling right now, in part because I gave her my overthink-everything-brace-for-catastrophe gene. And my son and his wife will soon travel to a place where everyone might not be hospitable to their interracial union. Will they be safe? These are the things that keep me up at night. This night. I am twisting on a spit of anxiety and dark mother thoughts and can’t seem to reason myself free.