Comparisons

Just outside my window

This morning, I should have left for a residency to finish the current draft of my new novel, but the buses were cancelled and the ferries were too, so I’m still at home, being safe and unproductive.

I want to work. But there are distractions. I’m worried about my friends in New York and Pennsylvania. My friends in Greenpoint, who are so close to Zone A. My friends in Manhattan, where power is out for so many after a Con Ed generator exploded (I’d link to the video, but it’s since been removed). My friends in the Lehigh Valley, some of whom were forced to evacuate due to flooding. I’m worried about them.

But here I am, safe, sound, and wishing I could go outside.

Eight years ago today, I moved to Boston. Six years ago today, I got married. I wanted to celebrate properly–take a walk, see the city, hold married hands.

There’s something else though. Something about seeing the water behaving so strangely, seeing it falling and crashing and hanging in the air. I want to see it and be out in it for as long as I can stand it. But then, of course, I have the luxury of going back inside–there are many who don’t. Still, there are so many articles I’ve read describing people who are leaving their homes and neighborhoods to see this storm. With their jobs and other time-sensitive obligations on hold, some of us want to see how this familiar place can be made unfamiliar. Like we can change just by seeing it. Like the change is even ours.