Hurricane '11 and no eggs...

It is Sunday morning, close to the end of summer.  My brother, his wife and two of his three sons slept over last night because they were evacuated from their home southwest of us.  The winds swirl around my house bending the trees as we hold our breaths praying they stay in the ground.  It’s a tug of war between Mother Nature and her land and sea. 

As each howling gale passes, the sound of the deluge of rain gets louder.  The ground in my yard yields under my feet, soft and spongy.  Sonny, our Cock-a-Poo, protests when we take him out, even though I bought him a little rain slicker, which he protests a little more about as I struggle to put it on him.  He is more content to stay put, which is smart, because as we watch the newscasts, we are literally seeing people blown away by the storm, Irene. 

Irene, an offspring of Mother Nature, is fierce and strong and angry.  We are at her mercy, obeying her whim, succumbing.  We are captive.  We have the news, food, the Internet, and power for now, but no air conditioning, because my central air died yesterday.  So my sister-in-law and I can’t tell if we’re having a hot flash or we’re just hot because it feels the same.  Even my brother is having hot flashes.  The lights flicker intermittently, reminding us of what we stand to lose if the power goes out. 

And yet, they say the storm has not met landfall yet.  That’s what the meteorologists report.  We hear weather terms we never heard before.  Winds are faster than speeding cars, tornado watches; it doesn’t look good, it sounds even worse and the potential damage of the aftermath grows more ominous each minute.

I am restless, feeling trapped and limited and yet I am a lucky one, even without air conditioning.  I’m sure my brother and sister-in-law are wondering about their home.... 

Weather- it is our lord and master now, running the show, ruling us.  Yesterday, the stores were packed as I ran around looking for hurricane supplies- batteries, rope, bottled water, non perishable food, a rain suit for my always-prepared husband, Mark.  I have followed all the suggestions for hurricane preparedness.  My bathtub is full, my car is full, laptops and cell phones charges- and yet I forgot to get eggs.  Actually, we have four eggs and eight people, which translates to Mark, as “We have no eggs.”  So he complains, of course.  He is going to risk his life to go out and get eggs.  I just look at him.  Of course, my sister-in-law, has about two dozen eggs at home that she didn’t bring. 

“I can’t believe you forgot to get eggs,” he says shaking his head at me.

“I was busy looking for rope and D batteries- which have somehow become extinct, and a rain suit for you.  Be happy with your rain suit, you can’t have everything.  There’s cereal.  And bananas.”   

I know Mark is restless, eager to do something to defend our belongings against the storm.  Early this morning, Sonny was barking at a strange banging noise and I couldn’t find Mark.  Following the noise, I locate him in the workroom, in his rain suit.  He is cutting a piece of wood, making it into a stake.  At first, I think, “vampires?”  No. The fence of my neighbor to the left of me, who is not home, is falling down into his yard.  Mark uses his rope to secure the fence to his newly made stake, feeling very proud of himself. 

My mother comes into the kitchen to tell me that the newswoman warned if you’re thin, don’t go out, the wind can lift you.  She said she pictures herself- flying through the sky, all 102 pounds of her.  We said, don’t worry, we’re not sending you out to get the eggs.  Just as we laugh about this, my brother eating his cereal, points to the window and shouts, “The tree just fell on your car!”

It was my next-door neighbor’s willow tree.  Now I have to walk around and under a tree to get out of my house.  Mark always hated that tree, anyway; now it’s an ornament to my front door. 

Mark, going a little stir-crazy, is eager to do something.  He’s able to move the car, luckily.  If any tree falls on your car let it be a willow tree, it is soft and harmless, thankfully.  He stops to take pictures and then hears a big crack; a huge limb from another tree comes crashing down at the corner of our block.  Lucky, he didn’t go out to get the eggs.

For now, we are safe, together, waiting it out, comfy in our pajamas.  We don’t have enough eggs, but we have each other.  


Of course, married daughter, Lindsay, 2 miles away in Levittown is a little envious....
But, I wonder if she has eggs.