I was three years old at the time of the Cuban missile crisis. With no memory of events in October of 1962, all I can go on is what my mother told me. She remembers going into our orchard,searching for my father to tell him they had to go into town and buy canned milk for the children. She was terrified, fully expecting the world as she knew it to end.Throughout the sixties threat of nuclear annihilation weighed heavily on my mind. Straining to catch snippets of adult conversation, listening to news reports I didn’t fully understand, my only solace the root cellar. Convincing myself our root cellar was safe haven, allowed me to keep dread at bay.
Dread faded over the years; the cold war becoming a chapter in history rather than an ever present threat. Shocked, saddened, outraged, horrified, and speechless describe emotions related to events since then. But no dread, at least not until now.
That dreadful feeling is stirring again. The situation in North Korea has rekindled fears long ago dismissed as childish anxiety. Dread has taken it’s time germinating, the seed was planted four or five years ago when I watched a clip of the North Korean army marching in perfect unison. I told my husband that it scared the pants off me. Dread can be tricky, it’s hard to pinpoint, creeping about just out of reach as it grows stronger. I haven’t felt it in years and wish I had a root cellar to push it away.