My coffee buddy, letting me know we were missed for the last two days.
We got our power back yesterday evening, and so we've now returned to the "homestead." It is unnerving how different our home, once my grandparents' home, felt in the middle of this crisis. It barely felt like home at all. The safety of the place was stripped just as bare as the trees covered in ice outside. Even if you weren't trying to listen, the sound of tearing tree flesh and the crashes of its ice-shattering collapse were everywhere.
I went through an ice-storm in our family home down the road, back in 94... or 96... as a very young kid. I can't recall the exact year. I know my mom does, and that my dad did. The experience as a parent was so radically different I cannot even compare the two.
My dead dad is the reason we had heaters and fuel to survive the cold without any power. He'd never forgotten. Fully three fueled and ready to light kerosene heaters were in his shop on my property. Just waiting for us. One went to my brother-in-law who had nothing on hand. The others kept us going for what, 3 days... and could probably have gotten us further. One of them is a Kerosun Moonlighter--the SAME one I remember from my childhood.
His stashed away hiking supplies were what I managed to safely heat our food in. It's like he was everywhere, all at once, and yet so painfully absent.
Anyway...
I've been trying to clean up the backlog of extra dirty outerwear, cooking clutter, litter boxes, bedding, etc. I tried to clean up before the storm hit but hoo-boy. We are a MESSY bunch of people. This is going to take some time, plus I'm out of detergent.
I haven't even begun to make all the necessary phone calls and institution-visits to have my dad fully declared dead. I'm so behind, on everything. I just don't know that I can do it. Life is gonna need to give me a second to BREATHE. Please.
I'll pay some chicken-tax shortly. They do a lot to remind me to be here, now, and to stop dwelling so much.