The Lizard, the Thunderstorm, and My Overthinking Brain

A few months ago, I discovered I had a new roommate.
A small, pale lizard living next to the toilet, between the bathroom and the shower.
We never signed a lease, but there she was… happily living in my bathroom, like she owned the place.

Confession

The first time I saw her, I screamed. She ran.
Honestly, I’m not sure who was more scared.

The second time, we just shared the space.
And a few months later… well, I got used to her.
In fact, sometimes I even looked for her to see where she was.

Then one day, something strange happened:
I started talking to her.

Yes, I crouched down, looked her in the eyes (or wherever lizards have eyes), and whispered,
“Hey little one… if you want to go outside, this is your chance. Don’t be afraid.”

In my head, I imagined she wanted to be free — to smell fresh air (not the air conditioner), feel the sun on her little lizard skin, touch the grass with her tiny lizard feet.

In short: I was sure I knew what she wanted.
And obviously, I was here to save her!

The Escape Plan

For days, I watched her progress:
✔She crossed the bathroom door.
✔She peeked past the shower.
✔One night she even ran into my closet — maybe she wanted to borrow some shoes?

Finally, with all that progress, I decided: today was the day.

I grabbed a small container, gently placed it over her, and said,
“Today’s the day. Listen carefully: we’re going outside!”

She seemed to understand me. She looked up at me and followed the plan perfectly.
My son opened the doors, we went to the backyard, and I gently set the container down on the grass.
I whispered that she could leave when she felt ready.
(Yes, I know, I’m ridiculous.)

I came back after 10 minutes — she was still there.
Fifteen minutes later, gone!

I was so proud.
“Look at me, helping this little lizard find her freedom!”

I told my daughter, she was happy. My son and I shared the story over dinner.
Everything was perfect.

And Then…

Two hours later, the sky turned black.
Neighbors were running, cars were rushing home, birds stopped singing, squirrels disappeared.
Then came the thunder. HUGE thunder. Lightning.
The rain started, and didn’t stop for seven hours.

I stood by the window, looking out, thinking,
“Oh no… my poor lizard.
She’s out there… in the worst storm of her life… and it’s all my fault.”

Here’s the thing:
I thought I knew what was best for her.
I believed the story in my head — that freedom, fresh air, and sunshine were her ultimate goals.

But maybe… just maybe…
She was perfectly happy living rent-free in my bathroom.
Maybe the safest, happiest life she could have had was inside, not outside.

We humans do this all the time.
We assume that whatever we think must be true.
We believe we know what’s best, for ourselves, for others, even for a random lizard.