Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Third night of bliss

For the third night, I didn’t sleep. If I did, it was only in brief patches. There was no bed available, so I slept on the floor. With two fans blowing increasingly hot air on across me. It didn’t help. I kept sweating and rolling around the floor and sweating and trying to relax and sweating and hearing the high pitched whine of the generator and sweating and jolting awake after a few seconds thinking: Where am I? Where are the kids? And every two hours we had to refill the ancient generator. I’d be awake seconds after it shut off. I’d be awake when my father would stumble outside to refuel it. I’d be awake when it would howl back to life. I’d be awake for hours as it rattled the boards of the deck just outside the window. And the night and the hot darkness never seemed to end.

My back is sunburned, nearly blistered. I’m sore from all the cleanup efforts yesterday. I even sport blisters between my thumb and forefinger from raking for hours. And my head feels like somebody is repeatedly stabbing me in the eye with a long sewing needle.

The hurricane was lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

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