It’s funny how recent history can affect the way you react to even the most routine events. This morning as I was pouring my first cup of coffee I heard a rumble. Thinking “here we go again, I scurried to the nearest door frame to take refuge. Then, as I looked out the front window I saw the source of the noise – the waste removal truck across the street picking up the neighbor’s weekly garbage. Even though that truck has been picking up there every Friday morning since we moved here seven weeks ago, I reacted to the most recent of experiences.
I remember after Hurricane Isabel, it was much the same. Anytime we lost power, even for a few minutes, I broke into a cold sweat. Even though 99% of the time we had lights out prior to that storm power was restored in a few hours at most, Isabel proved that there is always that 1% that you will need to get by for several days without it.
This morning, as Hurricane Irene heads up the coast, while I may be miles inland where we’re looking at sustained winds of 20 mph, my heart is still in Virginia Beach, mentally inventorying the flashlights, batteries and bottled water. I’ve offered an open invitation to anyone who would like to come party for the weekend but so far have had no takers. If I can’t make pancakes and popcorn for you all, I will hold you close to my heart.