Wake Me Up When September Ends (If I have to listen to this song one more time for the kid, I'm going to cut my ears off)
Will it never end? This turn of events that always leans off center, leaning slightly towards all things bad?
Christmas Eve,one of my live-in teen's closer friends flipped her car. She wasn't wearing her seatbelt and thank the good Lord for suffering fools, she came to a halt sitting in the back seat. Not on the ground after being ejected through a window, which most do. The power outage on Christmas, which on the surface might have been unlucky for some, but ended up providing me some moment of the peace I so often seek. And the day after Christmas, watching a home burn to the ground.
Last night, my mom called and not being able to get ahold of me because I am on the eternal quest of downloading my favorite songs, called little sister. Little sister rushes through the door telling me that "Mom thinks the office or Mike's house is on fire!"
Mike is the older man that is our 'handyman' on the ranch. He takes Tyler on 'rides' on the lawn mower. He taught Tyler how to run it, brave old soul that he is. He eagerly awaits our arrival on Halloween so that he can gasp and marvel at the kids' costumes. And it was, indeed, his house.
I shot from the house, joined by Merce we jumped in the car and sped for headquarters. Short, only of the hood slide, we were like the suburban Ford Escort sedan motherized version of Luke and Bo Duke and it was so much fucking fun. I think low speed through town was maybe 60 mph. If it weren't for the underlying panic that it might be the office and my to-go-to place everyday, I would have laughed hysterically the whole way there. Thinking back, there might have been a touch of hysteria here and there. By the time we arrived, my adrenaline was racing so much my foot was merely tapping the gas pedal to keep us going.
When we left, we could see the glow, but by the time we arrived, it had bloomed into a full fledged inferno and nothing could be saved. He saved his checkbook, his dog and his cat. And while a part of me agrees that yes, it is a blessing that he is fine and his animals are OK, a part of me shatters and breaks at the thought of this man, a mere 2 or 3 years from retirement will have to start all over again, literally, from the ground up. He has his cars, his dog, his cats, a checkbook and the clothes upon his aching back. I cried for him. I cried in front of Ty and Ty worried, tossed and turned all night asking if Mike had been "fired in the fire".
And the worst part is knowing that you can't do anything, really, to help. You can help replenish all of the material things. But what isn't just material is sentimental and you just can't replace most of it. Especially that feeling that is honed from years of coming home to the same place, hurting in it and laughing in it. Truly living in that space. The walls seem to absorb all of that living and it hurts to just leave it when a person moves. I can't imagine watching the safe keeping of that essence die.
Christmas Eve,one of my live-in teen's closer friends flipped her car. She wasn't wearing her seatbelt and thank the good Lord for suffering fools, she came to a halt sitting in the back seat. Not on the ground after being ejected through a window, which most do. The power outage on Christmas, which on the surface might have been unlucky for some, but ended up providing me some moment of the peace I so often seek. And the day after Christmas, watching a home burn to the ground.
Last night, my mom called and not being able to get ahold of me because I am on the eternal quest of downloading my favorite songs, called little sister. Little sister rushes through the door telling me that "Mom thinks the office or Mike's house is on fire!"
Mike is the older man that is our 'handyman' on the ranch. He takes Tyler on 'rides' on the lawn mower. He taught Tyler how to run it, brave old soul that he is. He eagerly awaits our arrival on Halloween so that he can gasp and marvel at the kids' costumes. And it was, indeed, his house.
I shot from the house, joined by Merce we jumped in the car and sped for headquarters. Short, only of the hood slide, we were like the suburban Ford Escort sedan motherized version of Luke and Bo Duke and it was so much fucking fun. I think low speed through town was maybe 60 mph. If it weren't for the underlying panic that it might be the office and my to-go-to place everyday, I would have laughed hysterically the whole way there. Thinking back, there might have been a touch of hysteria here and there. By the time we arrived, my adrenaline was racing so much my foot was merely tapping the gas pedal to keep us going.
When we left, we could see the glow, but by the time we arrived, it had bloomed into a full fledged inferno and nothing could be saved. He saved his checkbook, his dog and his cat. And while a part of me agrees that yes, it is a blessing that he is fine and his animals are OK, a part of me shatters and breaks at the thought of this man, a mere 2 or 3 years from retirement will have to start all over again, literally, from the ground up. He has his cars, his dog, his cats, a checkbook and the clothes upon his aching back. I cried for him. I cried in front of Ty and Ty worried, tossed and turned all night asking if Mike had been "fired in the fire".
And the worst part is knowing that you can't do anything, really, to help. You can help replenish all of the material things. But what isn't just material is sentimental and you just can't replace most of it. Especially that feeling that is honed from years of coming home to the same place, hurting in it and laughing in it. Truly living in that space. The walls seem to absorb all of that living and it hurts to just leave it when a person moves. I can't imagine watching the safe keeping of that essence die.
posted by Lori | 5:57 PM
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