Aftermath of Matthew

October 15th. 10pm.

We are home safe and our home is sound. Walked in by 3 ’O the clock, afternoon sun muted by gray clouds. Windy on the highway and in town. On the phone with cable company by 3:30. Services restored by 3:45. Brighthouse is expensive, but the service is prompt.

The last few days of my time in Virginia, I was calm. A stillness came over my heart, as it does in times when I must summon myself to the situation. I prayed for help and was answered with strength to help myself. This is the law of god.

Woke around 9 on Friday, out of doors around 10. Left our big tupperware bin with some jars of pb&j and 2 boxes of pancake mix therein. After the 2 (superfluous) 5 gallon cans of gasoline added to the trunk, there wasn’t much room. I had to dump the canned food willy nilly around the larger contents of the trunk. :P

I 85 south and west was a pain. Lots of road construction. 1 lane crawls followed by congestion. Autumn had begun to touch the trees. Fingerprints of gold amidst the green. We crossed into Tennessee, but were only there about an hour. Caught a few glimpses of the mountains to west, but did not approach. They gave us the cold shoulder as we rolled by.

North of Atlanta, I almost literally ran into a patch of gridlock. Going 80 mph to dead stop in about as many car lengths as humanly possible to avoid collision. Car fishtailed a bit as I feathered the break, press and release, rather than stomping. Mom braced, brakes and tires smoked. I was silent a few moments and said,

That is what they call, burning rubber.

Arrived in Atlanta at the worst possible time. About 5pm. Crawled through the gridlock of the downtown metropolis for about an hour, then through to I 75. Was glad to see the road open up into country again. Drove past the hometown my old girlfriend. A shadow of loss fell over me. Drove a few more hours, about 13 total, and stopped at a Super 8 Motel in Ashford.

The hotel room was like an alien trying to disguise itself as a hotel room. It was a slightly askew approximation. Everything a bit off, as if unfamiliar and awkward in its skin. Table in a corner, chair facing a blank wall, oversized flower vase with flowers stuffed in uncomfortably, mirror opposite the halfway point between the 2 beds, 2 bathroom light switches on the hallway wall, 1 that turned on light with fan, one that turned on light, sans fan. Widely oval shaped shower curtain rod around a rectangular bath, curtain barely long enough to reach the tub. Odd plexiglass floor inside the tub, felt like I was disturbing the guests below me just by stepping around on it. Oddly noisy for a tub. Lastly, bizarre television channel numbers and disjointed, chaotic guide on oversized, laminated chart. 115-5. 53-7, 16-2 was HBO, but it never came up as I scrolled up and down on the list. No guide channel. I think I may have lodged in another dimension for the night.

Woke around 9, stood on the upper balcony outside as I brushed my teeth and casually watched cars roll by in the light morning mist. Packed the car, took mom to a nearby Shoney’s for breakfast. The buffet smelled odd, we both noticed, and the prices were outrageous. Rolled down to the Waffle House instead. I got a large plate of hashbrowns with everything. Delicious. Enough food for three standard humans, I consumed it all and put tabasco sauce, ketchup, A-1 and hot sauce on it to boot. Mom and I enjoyed chatting with the cute young waitress, but especially our food. Decided we would come to the local Awful Waffle every 15th of the month, to commemorate our trip.

Drive from Ashford was leisurely and brief compared to the 11 hour flight to Virginia 8 days ago and the 13 hour drive around the flood zones the day before. About 5 hours, light rain as we crossed the Saint Johns river. As we approached home, the blasted over road signs, billboards and trees began to accumulate.

Downed trees on the avenues and in our neighborhood. Trunks cut into sections, branches stacked. America gets it shit together.

House skirt and porch screens are tore up. Porch door arm was ripped off the hinge. Roof and outer walls seem intact, battered with dried dirt. Will need a power wash. Put the car through its paces, will need a tune up, oil change, diagnostic. Lil Miss Honey Do isn’t the belle of the ball, but she’s a tough and dependable old girl.

Thomas Paine said, These are the times that try men's souls. I sit here in reflection of all the uncertainty and anxiety we endured. Moments when my nerves were frayed to the point of splitting. Mom had started into her hysteria a few days before our exodus. Waking me continuously with frantic updates of the weather and ideas of what we should do. I hadn't had a sound nights sleep in days before we arrived in Petersburg. I took sleeping pills to try and force some slumber. Got about 2 hours, woke with a psychosis induced dissociation, hearing voices in my mind. I tried to drown them out by humming tunes and reciting poems and prayers. 1 is much like the other, to me, anyhow. Talking with a couple friends helped me get through it. It stopped after a few hours. That was the crises point, the tipping point, where everything and the universe was balanced upon the tip of Mona Lisa's nose, between her enigmatic eyes, just a hair's breadth north of that almost smile.

It was a helluva ride.

I can hear the motorcycles snuffling and snorting down the avenues, like usual, this time of year. Quickly falling back into our rhythms. The events of the last 9 days soon to be dreamlike. Tired to my bones. Bed is calling me with a silky promise that we will sleep together. None too coyly either. ;)

Curious to see what dreams may come.

..

Aftermath of Matthew
or
After Matthew
or
Everything and the universe
by
Daniel Christensen