Goddess Mother Nature

“Sometimes I love mother nature, sometimes I hate her.” This was Isaac’s take on this week’s Nor’easter and subsequent 60 plus hours without electricity. “Nothing is normal about today. Absolutely nothing. The power’s off. We don’t have school. The street lights aren’t working.” Articulating exactly what is bothering him has become Isaac’s specialty. We don’t really ever have to wonder what he’s thinking because he is not going to filter it for us. “Mother Nature is a real asshole.” he grumbled at about hour 30 of no power. I told him not to use that word, of course, but he asserted that it was 100% the correct term to use in this very instance. “Have you ever thought that maybe Mother Nature is a little pissed at us humans for not treating her very well?” He admitted I had a point.

The first day and night without electricity and school was somewhat OK. I cleaned my room, the boys cleaned theirs, and Maire pretended to clean hers. Mom and Dad sat in the quiet of the house, their daily shows on hold. Although it is peaceful to not have the TV on all the time, I have to say that it is very disconcerting to see them sitting without it it on. As day turned to night and the house became as gray as the sky outside, we lit as many candles as we could find. By 5 pm, it smelled like the Yankee Candle factory and I had to step outside for fresh air. It is just too confusing to have the harvest and pine candles going at the same time. Your brain says “Is it Thanksgiving? Is it Christmas? Is this what hell smells like?” I’m beginning to think that those scents contain a decent amount of toxicity. I feel less smart today that I was on Wednesday.

As this family sat down to a dinner of pasta and sauce, cooked on our lovely gas cooktop that thankfully works in power outages, we talked to one another over beeswax candlesticks and I blew out at least two of the scented ones because pasta sauce and the smell of cinnamon just don’t mix. This was the most cut off we have been in quite a while, even our cellular data wasn’t working and I would either not get any texts or I would suddenly get texts in quadruplets. There was nothing we could do except sit together in the living room in front of the crackling fire and ask Dad to tell us stories of his youthful days of deviance. “Me and Billy Keiran use to flash the ladies on the trains.” Yes, this is true. He and his cousin would go swimming somewhere where there were train tracks nearby and as soon as they heard that whistle blowing, it was game on. “Great, Grampy!” I said, telling the boys to not get any ideas. “I also hung myself from a tree once and pretended I was dead by doing this with my neck.” Dad told them, speaking of the time he tied a rope around his chest and to a tree branch, put on a jacket and then just dangled there, head cocked to the side, swaying back and forth. “He’s-a-dead!” his neighbor yelled from her porch, prompting him to quickly come back to his senses and ditch his sick and twisted attempt to entertain. “AGAIN!” I said to the kids. “DON’T GET ANY IDEAS!!”

The next morning it was clear that power wasn’t coming back any time soon and the house was chilly. Maire and I started a fire as soon as we got up and by 10:30, when Mom and Dad had not yet roused from their slumber, I did what I affectionately refer to as a “breathing check” because that’s what you do when you live with elderly folk. “Good morning!” I said to them. Dad was confused, Mom just wanted to know what time it was. “It’s 10:30!” I said, knowing that this would cause Mom to panic a little because, for some unknown reason, she feels guilty for sleeping past 10. “Oh my god! 10:30??” she said. “Yeah! You going to get up?” I asked. I told them that there was still no power and that we should now move to Barb’s house where there was abundant heat, electricity, and a couple free beds. “Well, we’ll see.” Mom said, clearly not pleased to leave the comfort of home. After she got up, we discussed the issue further and although I was told to “let” her “bitch about it for a few minutes”, I ultimately won the argument. “These kids are going to drive me insane if we spend one more night without electricity. And they’ll probably drive you insane too.” I said plainly. The boys had taken to being total doofs at this point and Maire had kicked Isaac for sitting on her yoga mat. We needed to plug in somewhere and fast. Simply not a peaceful bunch, we are who we are and I know what we need.

It took until 3 that afternoon for us to pack up and move to Barb’s because we do not move quickly. “When are we going to Auntie Barb’s?” Isaac must have asked me about 104 times. “Soon!” I kept saying. “Well, when??” he demanded, exasperated by our lack of motion. I reminded him that we are working with a mixed age group and that speed is less important than safety and accuracy. They have gotten use to this pace, believe it or not. By the time we got to Weymouth, I was exhausted. I guess I didn’t realize just how much energy goes into entertaining my motley crew of kids without electricity. “I’m so tired” I said as I watched Barb pull together the food that Jan had brought from Bongi’s for dinner. I didn’t really have the wherewithal to help and it felt good to put nourishment in another’s hands. My sisters are simply the best and they helped us refugees settle in with ease. Although Dad was a little disoriented at first, he too relaxed with a Sam Adams and nodded off in a chair, plopped in front of the TV. A creature of both habit and comfort, I’m sure the sound of the newscasters was a welcome one to him.

All throughout the chaos of this week, I thought about a few people near and dear to me that were going through their own kind of storms. I won’t share the details as those are their stories to tell, I will share that although this week was dominated by a storm and all that ridiculousness that came with it, my mind often wandered to them and how they were doing through this. I can’t help but believe (because I simply have to believe in something), that Mother Nature was in fact being a bit dramatic this week and for good reason. “It’s your energy” my sister-in-law once told me when I went off to a 3 day writing retreat in Northern Maine in the midst of a major deluge. I wasn’t sure I believed her but the weather sure did match my emotions at that time. Freshly wounded by my separation, I won this writing residency on a whim and knew that it was the thing that was either going to make or break me. The storm was just so fitting and as the rain beat down on our group as we made our way via motor boat to the cabins in the woods, I felt both physically and emotionally drenched. A day later, under clear blue skies, I broke down in sobs, on my knees, all by myself. It felt just so good to let all of that out. So much pain, I needed that space to release it all.

No, Isaac, Mother Nature is not an “asshole” but a sponge of sorts. She receives and absorbs the energies that emanate from our laughter, tears, and screams. When it all becomes too much, she releases all of it down on us with neither an apology nor an explanation. She weeps rain and blows her fury, letting us know that she too has a heart that can feel and break. To those of you weathering literal and figurative storms, you are not alone. Isaac was right, there was absolutely nothing “normal” about these past few days and Mother Nature made that clear. As you handle everything with the poise, grace, and strength that you always bring to the table, please know that my thoughts are quite literally with you and that I always have wine, candy, one and a half functioning ears, and a heart that wants to beat alongside yours because you are some of my favorite humans, my dears, you really are. Mother Nature will soon show us that both her heart and ours can heal. One day, you will look up and see something that makes you say “Wow!” and it will be at that very moment that you will know that you have begun to feel better than you do right now. With any luck, I’ll be right there with you when that moment happens and agree that Mother Nature is indeed a goddess, the only one we should worship. My half a pear tree is still standing after this crazy storm. Yes, I gave her a hug.