The township woke me this morning. We’d been up late, or early as it were, alternating between actual entertainment and what the boy sarcastically called “the end of the world” (aka the weather reports). The township wanted me to know, urgently enough to wake me, that they’ve declared a state of emergency. No traffic except emergency workers and new evacuees.
There’s flooding all over the state. The boy and I walk the perimeter of the apartment complex… trees and limbs down, basements a foot or more deep in water being pumped out, a corner of the complex that’s impassable with floodwaters. The playground equipment seems to be disembodied, floating. There’s no hot water in my place, or any of the apartments… I’m sure the water heaters are currently drowned. Some units don’t have power, along with hundreds of thousands of others across the state – at last report, this is also my sister’s situation several hours south of here.
A few hours later, the boy is antsy to get out, state of emergency notwithstanding. It’s fine, he insists, but we pull up the local traffic and every route from here to there is blocked or closed with flooding. The entire state is at risk for flash flooding. He’s stuck here for a while.
Pardon me. I better go feed him, before he climbs out of his skin.