I'm so far from being a samurai poet like Mazahide (above), or his teacher, the master Basho, but last night our furnace started smoking. It filled the basement with smoke and carbon monoxide and the detectors went off at a high pitch I couldn't hear but DS, 9 could hear and he told me, and Husb. and I called the necessary numbers yelling into the phones over the sound of the barking of the alarms as they got louder and everyone could hear them and then...we scrambled around the house grabbing essentials, in case we were never to return.
Never to return. Those are poetic words, and shouldn't be used lightly as I have just done.
DS, 9, brought a Ravens dufflebag he won in a raffle, filled with Lego minifigs that he says are "exclusive." Me: iPhone and charger, wallet, and five days worth of anti-inflammatories. Husb: iPhone, wallet, leather I'm-not-a-schlub teacher briefcase and a book about being an Earthman on Mars. DD, 7: A stuffed animal cat with magnetic nursing kittens. No one packed socks or underwear or toothbrushes.
I thought -- I don't wantto die with my essentials in a NFL-themed duffel -- and then we ran from the house into the polar wind, dressed incorrectly. Hats, scarves, mittens we'd also forgotten. For heat we could burn the Mars book? Eat the kittens? I thought about refugees from the war in Syria, and previous wars. And famines. And droughts.
The point is, I can see the moon alright, as a result of this experience and here's what I've learned: you never know what's going to happen, when your furnace is going to smoke or the tide rise, so you should have a go-bag.