Thursday. November 15, 2001

"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposter just the same."

Rudyard Kipling, Rewards and Fairies

First it was just rain that meant I better go to the dentist a little early. No big deal. The page was going to be titled 'rainy day.'

The dentist was having a bad one. The crowns weren't right. A test bite. It broke. Temps back in and a cleaning. He was late. Power out, oversleep. Receptionist, too. Another patient called that he wouldn't come because he had to take antibiotics before he could have dental work and he hadn't done so. He blamed the dentist for not reminding him. The dentist was having a bad day. But others would have a worse one. You always know that.

Then it was too much rain to agree to take Mom and Sarah shopping. I went for lunch at Mom's house and, sitting on the glassed-in porch and eating, listening to the rain, convinced them that shopping was a bad idea. They persisted, though, in their desire to get out. It seemed to have let up. So I invited then to my house to visit and look through old family pix. I left and was a minute or two ahead. Then it started raining in earnest again.

Then it rained and rained. As a minor miracle, the garage hadn't flooded. Yet. I joked with Forrest that we should move the newspaper and magazine recycling off the garage floor to guarantee that we didn't have flooding. It started seeping moments after we finished moving them.

My mom asked if we could see the creek.

"No, "I said. "Unless you go upstairs maybe. If you see it from here, let me know. We'll be in trouble." I was joking.

It let up and I started worrying that Mom needed to get her medicine. (My sister had brought hers along.) So, I let them go. I told Dad the way I thought was best to go.

And then I saw the creek. From my back door. And it started raining hard again. An hour went by and I slowly began to panic. I saw film of northbound Mopac (yeah, the way I said to go) almost completely flooded with one lane going and that one full of water. An 85-year-old man. A sometimes feeble 80-year-old woman if she isn't shopping. And a disabled woman. Someone I had to help step off the porch to get to the van because there's no railing and she didn't have her cane. Damn. I should have never let them leave the house. And, once they got here, I should have kept them here. Damn. All channels tout the storm. Or should I say multiple storms. There are tornado warnings. (A watch means conditions are right, a warning means rotation detected. We have seen the worst variety of tornado a few miles from here. The F5. So we don't take it lightly.) I am terrified. Because my parents and my sister are out there somewhere. I try to calm myself but it is darn hard.

I keep thinking about woulda, coulda, shoulda. Like did I ask if they had a charged cell phone? Why didn't I give them mine? Damn. Damn. Damn. Mother needs her drugs, Sarah has hers. Why didn't they pull over somewhere and call me?

Finally, well over an hour after they left, I get a call. They aren't home but they are still driving. They are off the highway and not too far from their house and it is still bumper-to-bumper. Mom has been trying the cell but this is the first time she could get through. (Bless her.) I pour a drink. I'll feel better when they are home.

"Get home and do not leave!"

"We won't. Your dad's foot is tired from creeping along."

So, I briefly relax and then I start to worry that they haven't gotten all the way home. Damn.

But they call again. Home. Great. Maybe another drink.

Then the storm subsides, I guess. Because the Super Model Millionaire comes on.

We will see what tomorrow brings. And I'll have that other drink

So, yeah, someone died trying to drive through water already. (Stupid. Don't do it.) Just as dead as anyone. In 1981, thirteen people died in Austin as Shoal Creek overflowed its banks. I slept. I could not believe what I awoke to that day. How high the water had gotten in our yard (but not into the house). How many people had died. And the fact that, by the luck of the draw, none of them were in my back yard. The cars with bumpers leaning on trees ten feet in the air in the 6000 block of my street. And we were unscathed. Because, of course, we are God's chosen people. Or not. (Sorry, I just heard the aid workers who preached Christianity got out of Afghanistan because it was God's will. I always have to think that God chose to kill others. Like those three journalists covering the war. Right?)

After my scare with the parents, FFP and I share a can of chili and I try to read and watch TV. My nose is dripping and my head feels like I've been flying. Well, not that bad but stuffed up. This morning I'd taken some Echinacea and a twelve-hour Dimetapp. Guess it's worn off. I take some pills again. Must not get sick. On vacation. Too much to do. Maybe it's just the pressure from the storm.

est

And I fall into bed.

JUJUST TYPING
Rain.
A little is nice.
A little more inconvenient.
Too much a disaster...rushing over roads and low water crossings, speeding and gathering strength from upstream where there is still more
Rain.