It’s hard to believe that three weeks ago, millions of us were on the road, heading off to watch the great wonder of the Solar Eclipse.
Today, Sophie the Gray is howling on the back porch, expressing her displeasure at being exiled from the house. Sorry, Sophie: vet’s orders. We need to keep the cats apart for the weekend in order to monitor Cleo the Bold, who sounds like a small, broken engine. Twice a day, I must track Cleo down, wrap her in a towel, cradle her in my arms, and administer oral medications. Two syringes of yuck. She hates it, and lets me know by hissing as I set her down. But within minutes, she has forgiven me, and comes to keep me company at my keyboard.
She might be fine. She might be dying. We must wait and see.
Yesterday, because it was such a beautiful day, I took the back roads home from the grocery store. Publix had restocked water and other essentials. I noticed a woman crossing the street, carrying a gallon jug of water in each hand. Behind her, in a carport, the back hatch of a small car stood open. She, too, had been to the grocery store. And now she was delivering water to her neighbor. We chatted for a moment, strangers to each other, but aware of the need for connection.
I drove on, windows down, comforted by the exchange. Everything would be okay, I told myself, and then I burst into tears.
We will get through this. We will.
Irma continues to churn. From time to time, she turns our way. She is ruthless. And so is Jose. Nothing personal. It’s Hurricane Season. Fifty days to go.
By the way, the local newspaper is providing free coverage for now, as we drift in and out of the path of the storm.