Last night, the Chicago area had a fierce thunder and lightening storm. The lightening did not abate for a good two and a half hours in my area. I saw an orange glow shoot across the black in the street across from me and a popping sound fought it out with the thunder. A fiery branch fell to the ground but was quickly extinguished by the rain. It fell in slow motion, crackling and bright.
But it was not a tree branch, it was a transformer. Since our power went off, my home looked like a strobelight center. I had a flashlight and candles but didn't need them as (a) the light from the storm continually lit up my home, and (b) our police/fire department positioned cars with flashing lights on my block. It was hot, uncomfortable, raining madly and sirens were screaming thruout the storm; the police and fire sirens and the ambulance sirens, as I live near a hospial.
For the first half hour or so, I wasn't afraid at all. Poured myself a glass of wine and sat at the front window watching the light show, the water show, the comfortable dark figures of the police, firemen and ComEd people. But a subtle switch turned on in my reptillian brain part as the storm raged on. I became fearful. Fear settled in my body with warm relish like the red wine I was sipping -- like a large dog trying to climb onto my lap - made only worse because I pushed it away. What ifs flashed thru my cells like the lightening thru the grey/black night. What if we flood? What if they can't get the transformer working? What will I do about my dogs? What if the water sysem fails? My small black lab mix was whining in the corner and I tried speaking softly to comfort her. With a cold washcloth I stroked her (it was damn hot in the house) and cooed. She wasn't buying it. Can't fool dogs. "This woman is more scared than I am." My golden dog just followed me around and watched me closely - I tried to talk to him in a commanding voice but it came out in a squeak.
And for the next two hours or so, I joined women everywhere in the world scared senseless for those in their keeping. Husbands, mothers, grandmothers, the old, the infirm, children, babies, animals, gardens, neighbors. Officials were everywhere on my block and I could see that work was being done; something was being accomplished. I knew my son living in Chicago was fine - I'd spoken to him on my cell. Still, I was so scared. The continual noise and light seemed to put me off my balance - physically and mentally.
Yet women in Iraq, in Israel, in Lebanon are living with this terror constantly multiplied by hundreds. How can they keep their sanity? And if they don't - a whole structure falls with them. No wonder they are screaming when a television camera finally takes note of them. For how long have they been in terror for their families and friends before the cool, neutral eye of a camera finds them?
All the pictures I've seen on these blogs became a blur and like a drunken collage careened thru my fitful napping on the couch. And over all of it, throughout all of it, like a neon sign on a cheap hotel: How much longer can we tempt the fates? How much longer can we expect immunity? If what goes around, comes around....