ninanevermore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ninanevermore) wrote2008-09-17 12:02 pm
ninanevermore) wrote2008-09-17 12:02 pm
Entry tags:
Wednesday – A Surrealistic Normalcy
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Aside from the fact that I am home on a Wednesday (my company is supposed to open up again Tomorrow, unless we get another update saying otherwise), things are pretty normal around my house. The power and water are back (though we have to boil the water before we can drink it), and around the house things seem pretty much the same as always. That is, unless I step outside and look at the piles of lumber stacked neatly along the front walkway from the tree that fell on the house, and the pine tree still lying prone in the front lawn that we haven't got around to moving yet.
There is plastic on a lot of the rooftops around me, and smashed cars still in sit some of the driveways. Still, with the pictures of Galveston Island on the front page of my morning paper give me the perspective to see that these things are just minor inconveniences.
I have a correction to make; on Sunday I reported that no one in my immediate area had died. The truth is, of the handful of Houston-area deaths reported so far, two of them were within a stone's throw of me. Considering the size of Pinehurst, Texas, this is amazing. Two deaths here make a major dent in the population.
The first death was before the storm, but it counts toward Ike's tally because if the hurricane wouldn't have been on its way, it wouldn't have happened. I'd read in the papers that a 10-year-old boy died when his father was cutting down a dead tree in preparation for the storm. Speaking to a neighbor yesterday, who knew someone close to the family, I learned this child lived in my subdivision, within a mile of my house.
There was a dead tree in the yard that the boy's father worried might fall over when the storm passed through, so he decide to cut it down ahead of time. His two sons were in the yard, but well away from the tree. As the tree began to fall, the 10 year old took off running across the yard and darted into its path. His older brother saw the danger and took off after him, but fortunately was too far behind to reach him. The younger boy died on the scene when the tree crushed him. Jeff and I saw the ambulances, fire trucks and police cars race down our street that afternoon, which is unusual in our rural enclave. There were screaming sirens rushing down the street, and a few minutes later there was silence – never a good sign, now that I think about it.
"His poor father," I said when my neighbor told me what happened, dismayed to hear how it all unfolded.
She nodded sadly. "You don't ever get over something like that," she agreed.
As the winds picked up a few hours later, I wondered if this man even noticed or cared about them. The storm taking place in his head and heart had to be so much worse than the one blowing outside that night.
During the storm a woman in Pinehurst was crushed as she lay sleeping in her bed when a tree crashed through her roof. The paper didn't say where in Pinehurst she was, but the fact that she was in Pinehurst at all means she was within a few miles of me.
But in my little house, in my little corner of the chaos, we are all safe and sound. There is a FEMA distribution center a few miles from me, and the traffic around it is so awful I know that not everyone around me is so lucky.
The lights are on, the water is running, and my son is playing in the living room watching Calliou on TV. He had a Band-Aid on his chin from a fall he took climbing on the tree that just missed his bedroom window, but that is the most devastating thing that happened to us.
I am not just lucky, I am Blessed.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
Aside from the fact that I am home on a Wednesday (my company is supposed to open up again Tomorrow, unless we get another update saying otherwise), things are pretty normal around my house. The power and water are back (though we have to boil the water before we can drink it), and around the house things seem pretty much the same as always. That is, unless I step outside and look at the piles of lumber stacked neatly along the front walkway from the tree that fell on the house, and the pine tree still lying prone in the front lawn that we haven't got around to moving yet.
There is plastic on a lot of the rooftops around me, and smashed cars still in sit some of the driveways. Still, with the pictures of Galveston Island on the front page of my morning paper give me the perspective to see that these things are just minor inconveniences.
I have a correction to make; on Sunday I reported that no one in my immediate area had died. The truth is, of the handful of Houston-area deaths reported so far, two of them were within a stone's throw of me. Considering the size of Pinehurst, Texas, this is amazing. Two deaths here make a major dent in the population.
The first death was before the storm, but it counts toward Ike's tally because if the hurricane wouldn't have been on its way, it wouldn't have happened. I'd read in the papers that a 10-year-old boy died when his father was cutting down a dead tree in preparation for the storm. Speaking to a neighbor yesterday, who knew someone close to the family, I learned this child lived in my subdivision, within a mile of my house.
There was a dead tree in the yard that the boy's father worried might fall over when the storm passed through, so he decide to cut it down ahead of time. His two sons were in the yard, but well away from the tree. As the tree began to fall, the 10 year old took off running across the yard and darted into its path. His older brother saw the danger and took off after him, but fortunately was too far behind to reach him. The younger boy died on the scene when the tree crushed him. Jeff and I saw the ambulances, fire trucks and police cars race down our street that afternoon, which is unusual in our rural enclave. There were screaming sirens rushing down the street, and a few minutes later there was silence – never a good sign, now that I think about it.
"His poor father," I said when my neighbor told me what happened, dismayed to hear how it all unfolded.
She nodded sadly. "You don't ever get over something like that," she agreed.
As the winds picked up a few hours later, I wondered if this man even noticed or cared about them. The storm taking place in his head and heart had to be so much worse than the one blowing outside that night.
During the storm a woman in Pinehurst was crushed as she lay sleeping in her bed when a tree crashed through her roof. The paper didn't say where in Pinehurst she was, but the fact that she was in Pinehurst at all means she was within a few miles of me.
But in my little house, in my little corner of the chaos, we are all safe and sound. There is a FEMA distribution center a few miles from me, and the traffic around it is so awful I know that not everyone around me is so lucky.
The lights are on, the water is running, and my son is playing in the living room watching Calliou on TV. He had a Band-Aid on his chin from a fall he took climbing on the tree that just missed his bedroom window, but that is the most devastating thing that happened to us.
I am not just lucky, I am Blessed.