Gustav and Making choices
I am packing up to evacuate my home. I dread going, dread getting on the road with so many people from Louisiana already on the interstate, dread dealing with the insurance people afterwards, dread wondering what happened to my home , dread the probablility of repeat burglary and vandalism and wonder when I’ll be back home.
I’m fortunate in that my job does not depend upon Beaumont being functional or having power. Fortunate, too, that my children are clearly out of the hurricane’s path–as is my husband. That leaves just me and I feel almost paralyzed by fear of leaving as though if by staying I can wish the storm away. Of course, that means the storm will go somewhere else and in the end it’s probably best that my wishes make no difference in the storm’s path.
This evacuation, though, I’m taking my sewing machine. I’m packing up projects–projects that I would never get to, mostly because they’re the kind of mindless kind that I took on out of some sort of social obligation–the exchanges at the local guild, the workshops at the local guild so the class could fill. They’ve lingered on my shelves for at least two or more years. I’m also taking a few art supplies–and my camera–already loaded with inside photos of the house–I still have to do the outside photos. The house across the street is already boarded up–I don’t have the capability of doing so—the house survived Rita and so I’m praying it will survive Gustav.