From our patio, we photographed the police helicopters yesterday. They are here to help locate the escaped and dangerous convicted murderer, hiding about a mile from our home. For the last three days, our senior communities have been in various levels of “Shelter in Place” protocols. All events have been canceled, including holiday picnics, the outside pool, group dining and trail walks.

We are warned to call 911 immediately if we should spot the escapee. Doors and windows are to be locked. Our communications with one another are limited to brief encounters at meal pick ups, email or telephone.

Our children and family are worried about us. We could travel elsewhere. Many of our friends could stay with nearby family. Despite the constant noise of helicopters, planes and drones, and the intermittent buzz of text alerts and robocalls, my husband and I sleep soundly. We find ways of staying busy. Why are we not afraid?

None of us are fearless. When I asked others what they feared, the responses were instant: falling, the death of a partner, the loss of cognitive ability, running out of money, pain.

At first, I rejected leaving the area simply because I am comfortable in my “cocoon”—my chair, the view out the window, all of my pleasures and treasures within 50 feet. That’s typical of aging and a major reason for narrowing our travel wishes.

Upon further reflection, I recalled that I have looked Death in the eye many times. Various health scares and near accidents have tempered the fear of dying. Now I think of death as “whatever, whenever”: something inevitable but beyond my control.

There is also “letting go” going on. The capture of this prisoner and my safety are not entirely within my control. I am not in charge of anything except sheltering in place; there is no point in worrying about it. Let the professionals figure it out. However, I do hope they capture him soon. We are getting impatient.