Whoever said that fear is the foundation of safety must have gone through what I have experienced.

For years, we have been living in our ancestral home in Chicago.

If you have seen the Adams family then you could see the exact replica once you step in our house. Those long cobwebs and aroma of old mothballs will greet you the moment you come into our two-storey home. We never dared to change everything, since we wanted to preserve all the historic facts and memorabilia our forefathers left us. From those scary old paintings to those cranky aged stairs. It’s like walking down on memory lane.

My life changing moment started when I step on an open nail that has dislodged itself from the wooden floor. The pain was unbearable as the rusty iron thrust deeply into my foot. I have been very vocal about fixing some of those loose ends from our house. That unsafe electrical wires hanging, wood splinters from floors and now detached nails.

It had to end like this. The signs were there warning us of a possible danger looming ahead. However, we refuse to seek the calling in favor of the cobwebs and mothballs. It is inevitable that accidents will happen to a place which preservation matters rather than safety. And this is our wakeup call—an injured foot with a possibility of getting amputated if ever the Tetanus gets deep.

I had to call an all around Chicago Company that handles cleanup and purification needs. I have to make an action before everything gets worse. And now everything is back to normal, back to the radiance our house has been deprived for such a long time.

I always have fear of getting hurt and maybe that fear transcends to a foundation of safety.