The March Hare

I could not understand what was wrong with me. I can't stop sleeping, I feel just awful, I'm angry and sad in turns. And then it hit me, tonight, when I was standing outside and the wind picked up and it raised goosebumps on my arms even though it's seventy degrees outside.

Hurricane.

The sky has been dark in Mobile for a little over a week now. Not raining all the time, but dark and cloudy and windy. On the few sunny days, I felt so much better. And then the clouds would come back and it was like someone was drawing a curtain and everything went dark. I am afraid of hurricanes. I am shaking as I type that, because I'm not the type to be afraid of much, only ghosts and dead fish. I am terrified of hurricanes, I have refused to check the NOAA website even for a local forecast, I have refused to go anywhere near the state line because I don't want to see it.

For four days in August and September I didn't know whether my father was dead or alive. The Saturday before Katrina, I called my dad so many times, trying to get him to leave. I had a bad feeling, but my feelings are hardly ever accurate, and so I hoped that I was overreacting. Then the storm hit, and there was no more communication anywhere, but especially Mississippi and Louisiana, and the levys broke. And I just didn't know.

The Friday after the storm, I got a call from Martin Savage, from NBC News. He was at the convention center and had met my dad and gotten my number. He told me that my dad was alive, and I thought, well, that's over.

It's not over. Through the entire ordeal everyone noted how well I was taking it. I cleaned my house. I walked to the store for food and ice, I cooked meals and had friends over and we sat out in the yard with chips and beer and talked in the dark because there was no power. I acted normal. People forgot that this was happening to me, because I was acting so normal. I cried once for the levys, once for the idea that my children would never know their Grampa Bob. And that was it. Except that it isn't, apparently. Apparently, I need happy pills.

There are no hurricanes in Minnesota. I can live through one more hurricane season, and then it's just blizzards, and cabin fever, and the occasional tornado. I can handle that. I can definitely handle that.