Created in the path of Irene
I was inspired by Kate Messner's invitation to put this piece together during the hurricane…
Allentown, PA (8/28/2011). It's 4 a.m. on Sunday morning, and I've been up all night. The last few hours brought rain that switches without warning from heavy lawn sprinkler spray to something that feels like the open end of a fire hydrant. A waterfall streams down the outside stairwell leading to our basement. During a regular rainstorm, the drain at the bottom of those steps would carry the water away, but this is too much. Fortunately, my trusty portable pump and I have been working since midnight to keep the hurricane away from the door.
Around me, winds howl, and the sky glows from fluorescent city street lights reflected off low, low clouds. A huge tree has come down just a dozen or so yards away from my yard. (In the photo above, that's my red, brick house on the right!) Somehow, it didn't hit a thing. That tree was planted here just after World War II when the houses in my neighborhood were all brand new. Now its trunk and branches are collapsed across the street. It is sad to see it down, but I am relieved that it seems to have caused no injuries or damage. All in all, this has been a bracing, awe-inspiring, amazing night. But I am exhausted and worried and even a little scared.
I jog around the house to check on the drain pipes (still flowing), my fence (still standing) and most important right now, my electric pump (still pumping). If my grandmother were here, she'd make me say a thank you prayer to Saint Florian, patron saint of flood protection. But my grandmother has been dead for years, and even if she were here, I'd make her go back inside. She was a tiny, French Canadian lady who could have been blown away by a big enough wind. And nobody should be out on a night like this.
That's why it's so surprising when a big white Crown Victoria turns the corner onto my street. I stand stupidly at the curb and watch the old sedan make its way toward me. Bit by bit, the car rolls through the dark and storm. Seeing me, the driver slows to a stop. He hops out of the car.
"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" I shout over the wind.
"YEAH." He looks impatient. He wipes rain from his face. Then he pushes something toward me. "HERE'S YOUR NEWSPAPER."
"ARE YOU—" A huge gust of wind whips a bucketful of water into my face. I stumble back a step. "— KIDDING?"
"NOPE." He gets back into his car, makes a u-turn, and drives back into the night…
I can think of a dozen just-right ways to wrap up this story… if it were fiction. But it's not. So I'm a little stunned and confused and still very tired. When the rain stops, I guess I'll pour some coffee and read my paper.
