Monday, October 31, 2011

Home is Where the Heart Is

     I live in New Jersey.  I should be suffering like my neighbors, without power, longing for a hot shower and a little mindless TV.  But I'm on a business trip, in a comfy hotel where the TV is off because I choose to leave it off.
     But my heart is back in NJ.   My neighbors tell me that I've lost a tree in the backyard and my front yard is full of large limbs, scattered like pickup sticks.  I can picture all this, but I want to really SEE it, to understand first-hand how much devastation there is.  I wonder how the inside of my refrigerator smells and if there's any sort of leak anywhere.  I want the comfort of knowing that whatever disaster I envision in my kitchen, it's really not so bad.  And on some level, I want my own war story to tell in years to come of how I survived Snotober.
     Kevin has been vacated from his group home to a hotel again, just as he was for Hurricane Irene.  I don't know his room number though, so I haven't been able to talk to him this afternoon.  There isn't a doubt in my mind that he's fine though.  Really, not one doubt.  Really.
     So sitting here in my hotel room, I am warm and showered and I want to go home.

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