What lay before Joseph was unknowable, a gape. It scared him. Yet lying here, on this summer afternoon, he soothed himself with a question: How bad could it be to be buried in the warm earth and listen to the world conduct itself around you? That didn’t seem so dreadful. He breathed in deeply. No, not so dreadful. For a moment, the simmering fear subsided. He had waves like this, waves of worry, that approached—lapping, threatening—then receded. Sometimes they were about death; often they were about his granddaughters. About their fortunes, their security, the money that seemed to come and
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Anxiety
