Tomas, starting to fade into the light (III)

I was starting to get worn down.  Very little sleep at night, followed by hot and humid days that quickly faded into dark nights.  Nothing seemed normal and as the mom, I was meant to provide the normal.  It is in spots like this that I usually begin to fade.  I am just not that good at it.  I like comfort.  I don't really have that Pollyanna, make lemonade, sunshine that my smile belies.  I am exhausted.  Short-tempered.  Hot.  I just want a break, but I don't want Lily and Virginie to feel the stress of my fatigue and angst.  I am still not quite sure if I am succeeding in this department.  I know I am trying, but they see the cracks.  I can tell when Lily tells me, "Thank you," when I tell her I love her more than anything in the world.  I know it when they run back into place when they see me coming down the hallway.  I know it when Lily asks if I hurt myself and then tries to kiss wherever it hurts and she figures everywhere. 


My friend Wendy, God bless her for certain, has me come over and do some laundry, have lunch with her and her family as Lily has been called back into school.  Somewhere in the middle of all this, I start driving and take the car and drive over there.  I am nervous, of course, but it is different without Didier in the car giving me Formula One, rather than regular road tips.  I manage to make it over there safely and not too slowly either, I might add.  I do not think I qualify as a "snail," what Didier likes to call most of the drivers on the road here, but I did not try to pass everyone on the West Coast Autobahn either.  There is a balance.

The afternoon is lovely and when Lily is dropped off by another angel friend at Wendy's, I leave her there for a swim with her friends and take Virginie back to the house to gather a few things.  Plans have changed.  A break in our future.  We are to stay at the hotel, which too has no power officially, but a generator.  We stay in a small room with air conditioning, television, hot running water, a bathtub, and a king-sized bed with cool sheets.  We stay for two days until the power is restored at home.  It is a small piece of heaven and a reminder of the fact that I am just not hardcore.

When I allowed myself to feel, really let sink in, the fact that many, probably most on the planet do not enjoy the comforts that we take for granted, take as a given, I felt ashamed.  Really.  We endured living with no power for all of three days before we could not take it any more.  I thought I would kill Didier just because of fatigue and stress, and heat exhaustion.  The girls clung to me with their humid little naked bodies and whined about the heat and the dark and I lashed out cruelly.  I begged them to be quiet, to give me some peace when they were just confused and hot and tired too.  We had water.  It never stopped flowing at our home, but many, even friends who had electricity, lost their water.  We had gas to cook with.  The house was strong and sturdy and kept us protected from the elements.  We had each other.  Lamps.  Batteries.  Candles.  Mosquito repellent.  And we were alive.

I'd thought about giving a play by play of all five days without power, but I think the reality is evident.  It was not easy.  It was scary and frustrating and confusing.  But it all came back and life is back to normal.  We are truly blessed and fortunate.  Many in Barbados, but especially in neighboring islands, St. Lucia and St. Vincent, suffered devastating losses and as they do not register with much of the First World as destinations for respite and hedonistic tourism, no one is talking about what they have suffered, continue to suffer.  I may whine, sometimes often, but I do count my blessings.  Sometimes one has to come up against a hard time, a disaster with no one to blame, to see them, the blessings I mean, swarming and keeping you safe.

(c)  Copyright 2010.   City Mom in the Jungle.