The Fence

February 25, 2016

There was a thunderstorm last night. It was at around 3 a.m., and I, a fairly heavy sleeper, slept right through it, but the next morning in AP Chemistry I heard people talking about it. The storm knocked down the wooden fence that separates my backyard and my driveway. That fence has been there as long as I can remember; it was built to keep my little brother and I from running into the driveway when we were very young children. Every winter when it snowed, the plow would push the snow from our driveway down into the fence, and it would pile up into a mountain. We loved to climb that mountain, to dig tunnels in it, to slide down it/push my brother down it. And always, we could not go over the fence. When we were in the driveway (at first always with our parents, but later on our own sometimes), it was a sign that we were outside, adventuring. When we were in the backyard, it kept us in, kept us safe. When I arrived home today, I saw the fence down, and I asked my father if it could be fixed. He said it could, but that they were not going to bother; it wasn’t needed anymore, thirteen and fifteen year old children did not need to be contained by a fence. I didn’t like that. He then said that if it was down, they could make room for a potential third car to be parked. I am less than three months away from my sixteenth birthday, when I can get a learner’s permit, and six months after that I can get a full driver’s license. I have been begging for a car. The fence represents safety, protection; the car represents freedom. And suddenly I was so very torn. Safety or freedom? Safety, or freedom? I was reminded of a quote from Benjamin Franklin - “They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” I have always been a firm believer in that quote; I object to the policies of the TSA, I admire Edward Snowden for his NSA leak, the fourth amendment is one of my top go-tos. But suddenly everything was different; it was my fence, my yard, my driveway, potentially my car. What did I want? It was a struggle between safety and freedom, and also between what those two things can in a sense be equivalent to - childhood, and adulthood. As a girl who is soon to be sixteen, that is a fairly consistent struggle in my life. I have never been particularly fond of change, always anticipating it and at the last second saying I do not want it. My life has seen several changes recently, and I know they are nothing compared to what is coming; I am a junior in high school, and in about eighteen months, I will be starting college, moving away from home. I want a car, I want to be free, to be an adult; but that fence, along with the safety and protection it gives, has always been there, and the thought of the backyard running straight into the driveway, it scares me. Safety or freedom? Childhood or adulthood? I suppose one could say I am on the fence - but the fence is down. And so one could say I am falling.