Call of the River

I guess it was the call of the river that made this whole hurricane situation easier to handle. Days looking out across the black water always helped me find peace. So with the power outage, the lost cellular service, and the trauma of the storm itself: the silence become a bit healing. Imagine the sound pf an old farm before modern times, before electricity. Where in the vastness of the land you would often hear nothing but for the sound of the wind. I figured at some point in all this, my nerves would get the best of me. But the isolation I felt only reminded me of the river all those years ago. Shielding me from the enormity of a situation.
 
With the post office shutdown and most roads barely passable. I hope it doesn’t come down to food shortages, but there’s already a run on groceries stories that are opening. There are even the stories of convenience stores in a nearby towns being looted. We’ve pretty much ate through all our refrigerator/freezer items. But we still have a fair supply of can goods and dry goods. So with the down trees and limbs across our yard for the first few days we created a bit of a Hobo Camp for ourselves. With the help of some left over charcoal, broken tree branches, and an old grill I never threw out. After a few days I started hearing tall tales of electricity, groceries, and gasoline over in Eastman. But with the Kia already sitting on empty, I was not taking any chances what could be fables and rumors.
 
After 6 days of just my four and no more, with the help of my other kids, the city, and Georgia Power. We got some ice, bottled water, and food supplies; then the power came back on. It’s been 8 days since the storm, and I’ve already filed for disaster relief. Hopefully there won’t be any heavy rain till I get the roof and broken windows repaired. If I were healthier I could probably do it myself. But considering we were one of the lucky areas, most businesses nearby are still closed and without power. So I’ll just thank the stars for what I do have and be patient and compassionate with those with much less. After six days of not hearing anything the shock of the whole event is still sinking in. But with the swiftness of the river, time will take us through.