Two days ago, during the heart of Hurricane Sandy, a huge tree fell in front of my house. When I say huge, I mean h-u-g-e. Probably 80 feet tall, pine. It crashed into the power lines, took them down and rendered our block un-drivable.
We have no electricity. Most folks on our block don’t—all because of the tree.
People always say you can judge character in tough times. It’s true. We’re sorta miserable, yet our friends have been wonderful. As I write this, I’m sitting at the kitchen table of Larry and Diane Luftig—our pals and neighbors. We’re sleeping in their basement. Folks all around have offered us supplies, warm showers, rides … whatever. Anything. Everything. This morning, we had a pancake breakfast at another neighbor’s place—Sean and Donni O’Keefe. Just good, hospitable, empathetic folks.
I’m babbling. Sorta lost. But grateful.
Very grateful.
Being without your home sucks. I mean, I know I’m lucky and have a great life. But it’s just … wayward. I feel lost and unsettled. It looks like power won’t return for at least a week. We’re not sure what to do or where to do. For now, we’re just … existing.
Oy.
