We Can Never Know

In the past few months I have posted several essays about readiness and preparedness. I’m really not obsessed with circumventing the inevitable. Stuff happens despite our efforts to thwart Murphy’s Law. But doesn’t it seem that in 2020, Murphy has seized full control? Of EVERYTHING?

Before I elaborate on a recent personal catastrophe–one I dearly wish could have been avoided–and, the disaster’s subsequent many gifts, I want to acknowledge a universal truth:

Each and every one of us is full. We are holding too much within ourselves. We seek respite. We are looking for joy and harboring hope for the return of better days.

Many Monday’s ago, just before 2 a.m., the landline pierced through the cloud of my husband’s soft snores. The caller ID belted out the name of our condo building in Florida. I puzzled the messenger. Our summering on the shores of Lake Michigan was in its final week. My husband and I had prepped the lake house and gardens for winter. We’d begun stacking up golf clubs, summer clothes, and miscellany by the side door. In a few days’ time, those items would layer the back of my Tahoe, and we’d begin the eighteen-hour drive to Sarasota.

Building management knows we’ll be there in a few days. What could this be about? That’s what my head voice informed my heart, but we all know nothing good comes from middle-of-the-night phone calls.

My intestines lurched as I snared the phone from the night stand. After my hoarse hello, I heard building security and an unfamiliar name. The beating in my chest dialed up and thrummed into my ears. Unit above yours. A leak. Water in your unit. The doomsday caller asked permission to have water remediation experts enter our unit. Squeezing my eyelids shut, I said of course.

My first reaction was Oh no! Not again! Three years ago, during our first year of Florida condo ownership, our carpets had been soaked from a different neighbor’s failed water heater. This was a new and different condo unit, experiencing a familiar problem. The big difference between then and now: nerves that are like an overstretched rubber band due to the surging pandemic, sustained racial tensions, and a polarizing election.

My head voice took control and wagged a cautionary finger at my mounting anxieties, No one is hurt. No one has died.

Indeed. No one had been taken to the hospital with Covid, nor had anyone been in a car accident or been a victim of a crime. As far as I knew, my geographically dispersed immediate family were cozy, warm, and safe in their respective beds.

From the pillow beside me, my husband’s voice rumbled, “What happened?”

And as I explained, I knew the two of us l would lie there in the dark for hours, each of us envisioning a scene of wet carpets, stained ceilings and walls, and ruined furnishings while the refrain of “Where will we live for the next eight months?” throbbed in our skulls. Before dawn peeked through trees blazing with fall color, I was up, making coffee and texting my fellow Florida condo owners. Not only had the neighbor across the hall been spared the wrath of the angry water heater gods, they offered us their place as safe harbor until we sorted out our situation.

Kindness in the midst of mayhem.

Word about our predicament spread nearly as fast as a western wildfire. Before twenty-four hours had elapsed, we received countless offers to help and places to stay. The generosity of folks I had only known for a few years, humbled and heartened me. Much of the nightly news focuses on what is tearing apart our communities and destroying our democracy, yet among us, live decent people, armed with good intentions, who are willing to extend themselves.

Here’s the other thing.

When I walked into my flooded apartment, heavy-duty blowers consumed the space. Our furniture–mercifully spared from damage–was stowed at one end, covered in plastic and placed on blocks. The soaked carpets had either been extracted or were drying on stilts. Sections of baseboard and drywall had been removed to improve airflow and prevent mold. The future of the tile floors was anyone’s guess, and so was the timeline to remodel and move back in. Uncertainty was everywhere I looked, but I wasn’t unnerved. Perhaps, I have Covid-19 to thank for a cool head in the face of so much unknown. This was an unfortunate and inconvenient mishap, but we could deal with it.

Which brings me back to my opening point.

We are all holding a lot. But sprinkled in among worries, disappointments and concerns are healthy emotions. Kindness. Resilience. Hope. We possess the ability to judge what is devastating and what is unfortunate. My condo will be repaired, but many will lose their homes this year for the failure to pay rent as a result of a lost job due to the pandemic. Many cannot put consistent food on the table. Others struggle to work while caring for a child or a parent. These are challenging times. I haven’t a clue how our world emerges from all the crosses we bear, but I know that if we can lessen the load of another, all of us are bettered in some way. 

“Winter, spring, summer or fall. All you’ve got to do is call.
And I’ll be there…. You’ve got a friend.”~James Taylor

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