Monday, August 29, 2005

Tormented. Tormented. Tormented.

I've been pacing for hours. Can't stop thinking about them. Cindy knows what is on my mind. Everyone knows. Their family is all here, or further north. Beyond Katrina's reach. Everyone I love is either with us in Hattiesburg, or on the Coast.

How many survived? How many didn't? Are they trapped right this moment? Are they counting on me to rescue them? How long can they wait?

I can't wait, through. Cindy knows. She sees it on my face. She doesn't want me to leave. Wants me to stay with her. And the children.

But I'm dying inside. Suffering these long moments of quiet desperation because I have so many questions and fears and doubts. And I keep thinking about my Mother and my Grandfather and my Brother and my Father and my Grandmother and twenty five years worth of friends who were all in the path of Katrina. Their faces and voices haunt me.

Cindy knows. Helps pack a couple of bags. Then makes two PB&Js for me. When she pulls me close and whispers to be careful, I feel her sigh. She doesn't agree with me. But she knows I have to leave. I have to see for myself who survived. And who didn't.

We pack the SUV. Share more hugs. Good luck. Be careful. Good luck. Be careful. We love you. And I'm on the road. Driving into the wake of the storm.

"Because you're mine, I walk the line."
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