After the Storm

I am not at all sure I am ready to talk about this now. But maybe if I put pen to paper, as they say, I'll learn a little something along the way.

So the storm blasted the area with unprecedented devastation. I got lucky. Scott got lucky. His sister with the shore, house, less lucky, but still, the house is standing and the living space unharmed.  Who cares if the first floor storage areas have damage. It is an inconvenience and an expense, but there is nothing that prevents them from living in the house. All in all, a bullet dodged. Thought that can't be said of the shore towns in general. The beach, the boardwalks, the iconic businesses and amusement piers. The damage is unfathomable.

Because of the state of emergency, it is a short work week. But no less haranguing at the office. Things going topsy turvy in the universe have a way of making everyone a little more kooky...to say nothing of the full moon.

On the drive home on Friday, I chat, as I customarily do, with Scott. I am so happy to have survived the storm, and so happy that he has too, that I crave seeing him. Need to see him whole and in the flesh to be convinced he's OK. 

But I am getting a nagging sense that I won't see him. He has shingles to replace on his house, and I am sure he'll want to go to his sister's to see how he can help there. And he'll want to survey the damage to the beach town first hand. It is his home in his heart, and I know he'll want to lend a hand. He's that kind of man.

I don't even want to ask if I'll see him, because really, I almost don't want to know that I won't.  And I don't want to seem like a selfish, petulant, self centered brat by asking (Or stupid for that matter - "Duh - I have to put my house back together, Liza...")

So without having asked or been answered, we end our drive time conversation the way we usually do. He's going to go take a soak while I negotiate traffic, and we'll talk later that night. Then we exchange I Love Yous and Goodbyes until dinner and evening routines have passed. We'll talk again about 8 pm.

Except this time, it never happens.