enter. The rain sounded like people throwing rocks at the windows, and we were sure they must break and let the rocks fly in to hurt us. There were unidentified crashes from time to time: Trees? Utility poles? Objects sailing into other objects riding a demon wind? The dark was palpable with no lights in the house or on the street. And the candles provided a few little islands of yellow that brought no comfort.
None of the three of us wanted to go upstairs to bed, so we spent the night at the kitchen table. Sometimes we turned the battery radio on long enough to be told the storm was expected to diminish by a dawn we feared would never come. Sometimes we dozed in the straight chairs, wakening every few minutes as we lost balance. Finally, we put our heads down on the table, having digested all the terror we could hold, and simply became numb.
Daylight finally did come, as it inevitably must, unless it is truly, finally the end of the world. The wind had slackened to a mild gale; the rain was a manageable downpour. We realized we had survived and were overtaken by a silly lethargy that made us giggle at nothing and satisfy our hunger noisily with the stale leftovers of last night’s banquet.
Dad came in from the den where he had slept on the couch, expecting a steaming mug of coffee and a trencherman’s breakfast. He looked with distaste and disdain at our sandwiches with the curling edges and hardening streaks of mayonnaise, at the glasses holding flat soda or smudged with congealing milk. He poured a hefty shot of scotch, added a bit of water from the tap, and sat down, turning on the radio only to curse the announcer who warned of flooding in low areas and downed wires which could still kill.
Finishing his drink, he declared he must get to work and see what damage the store had sustained. He didn’t question what his house or his family might have sustained. Sonny informed him that a large branch from our neighbor’s tree blocked our driveway.
Dad told him to put on a coat and help him move it. Mom said that it could have live wires tangled in it and that Sonny wasn’t going anywhere near it. Sonny looked relieved. Dad shrugged and said she’d turn her son into a fairy yet at the rate she was going, grabbed his slicker and went out to drag the branch aside.
The radio announcer had been right.
We were now a family of three with no breadwinner. Mom got a job, Sonny and I helped as and when we could. There may have been additional aid from Aunt Mae and our grandmother— I never knew. I did know that, financially strapped or not, we were more lighthearted and content than we had ever been. Eventually Mom got promoted, first Sonny and then I became independent…and everyone’s checkbook now looked reasonably healthy.
Over the years, Mom had several invitations to marriage that I knew of. She turned them down gently but firmly. Now—it still seems strange to use these words in reference to my mother—she is in the midst of a very successful affair with an actor several years her junior. She had met Noel Fortnum when he was appearing in a play here last summer and they were immediately attracted. Neither seems especially interested in marriage, but they obviously care deeply for each other. At first I thought the long-distance relationship might not work. Now I think perhaps the distance makes it work better. All that really matters to me is—Mom is happy.
Aunt Mae looked at her watch, caught Joe’s eye and made a “check” motion with her hand and said, “Jeanne, we’d best stir ourselves. Being late will just make it drag on longer.”
“What’s dragging on?” I asked.
“The bi-monthly meeting of the Ladies’ Altar Guild,” Mom answered for her. “I’m chairwoman this year, so I guess they can’t start without me, but I do hate being late. It just makes it look as if you consider your time more valuable than anyone else’s. Now listen, you two girls be careful and call either of us if you
None of the three of us wanted to go upstairs to bed, so we spent the night at the kitchen table. Sometimes we turned the battery radio on long enough to be told the storm was expected to diminish by a dawn we feared would never come. Sometimes we dozed in the straight chairs, wakening every few minutes as we lost balance. Finally, we put our heads down on the table, having digested all the terror we could hold, and simply became numb.
Daylight finally did come, as it inevitably must, unless it is truly, finally the end of the world. The wind had slackened to a mild gale; the rain was a manageable downpour. We realized we had survived and were overtaken by a silly lethargy that made us giggle at nothing and satisfy our hunger noisily with the stale leftovers of last night’s banquet.
Dad came in from the den where he had slept on the couch, expecting a steaming mug of coffee and a trencherman’s breakfast. He looked with distaste and disdain at our sandwiches with the curling edges and hardening streaks of mayonnaise, at the glasses holding flat soda or smudged with congealing milk. He poured a hefty shot of scotch, added a bit of water from the tap, and sat down, turning on the radio only to curse the announcer who warned of flooding in low areas and downed wires which could still kill.
Finishing his drink, he declared he must get to work and see what damage the store had sustained. He didn’t question what his house or his family might have sustained. Sonny informed him that a large branch from our neighbor’s tree blocked our driveway.
Dad told him to put on a coat and help him move it. Mom said that it could have live wires tangled in it and that Sonny wasn’t going anywhere near it. Sonny looked relieved. Dad shrugged and said she’d turn her son into a fairy yet at the rate she was going, grabbed his slicker and went out to drag the branch aside.
The radio announcer had been right.
We were now a family of three with no breadwinner. Mom got a job, Sonny and I helped as and when we could. There may have been additional aid from Aunt Mae and our grandmother— I never knew. I did know that, financially strapped or not, we were more lighthearted and content than we had ever been. Eventually Mom got promoted, first Sonny and then I became independent…and everyone’s checkbook now looked reasonably healthy.
Over the years, Mom had several invitations to marriage that I knew of. She turned them down gently but firmly. Now—it still seems strange to use these words in reference to my mother—she is in the midst of a very successful affair with an actor several years her junior. She had met Noel Fortnum when he was appearing in a play here last summer and they were immediately attracted. Neither seems especially interested in marriage, but they obviously care deeply for each other. At first I thought the long-distance relationship might not work. Now I think perhaps the distance makes it work better. All that really matters to me is—Mom is happy.
Aunt Mae looked at her watch, caught Joe’s eye and made a “check” motion with her hand and said, “Jeanne, we’d best stir ourselves. Being late will just make it drag on longer.”
“What’s dragging on?” I asked.
“The bi-monthly meeting of the Ladies’ Altar Guild,” Mom answered for her. “I’m chairwoman this year, so I guess they can’t start without me, but I do hate being late. It just makes it look as if you consider your time more valuable than anyone else’s. Now listen, you two girls be careful and call either of us if you
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