DISASTER DAY #2 - THE MORNING

Following the gas explosion evacuation, I sleep restlessly at my friend's house.  It is comfortable and she and her family are wonderful hosts, but I'm worried.  There are reports of 35 or more fires in my town, some of them close by.  (Turns out that one is in my old apartment building two houses from where I live right now.)  I cannot go home.  I am in The Red Zone.

I get up at my regular time, even though I set my alarm for a little later.  When my coworker gets up, I am already dressed and ready to go.  I'm worried about all kinds of things, including not having deodorant, but I am thrilled to have on something almost completely clean and different than the dress I wore yesterday.

I am on my way to work, and I'm thinking about what I do know: multiple fires, multiple explosions, one teenager killed, people injured. On the way out from the mayhem, many other towns' emergency responders pass us coming down side streets to avoid the gridlock, and screaming up the highway from places as far as Chelsea and beyond.

I know nothing.

My son, who never makes it home and stays in Central Massachusetts overnight, texts me that he is going to try and get into the house.  Since I saw the emergency crews staging our area, I doubt he can get to the house, but he is determined to get clothes and other essentials if he can.  This worries me, too.  No one is supposed to be in my neighborhood.

All this and on my way to work, I suddenly realize that I'm hungry.  I didn't feel like eating anything last night at the restaurant, and my friend tried to feed me last night and again this morning, but I couldn't stomach anything.  What will I do for breakfast?  For lunch? For the night?  I have forty dollars to my name right now.

I pull into the parking lot at school and see members of the PTO bringing large trays of food into my school.  A breakfast.  We are having a Teacher Appreciation breakfast.  I don't know why, but this makes me cry.  I don't like to cry.  Crying pisses me off because it makes me look like crap and I have to work today.  And it's not like people have NOT tried to feed me in the last twelve hours.

I'm just tired ... and a little hungry ... and a lot worried about the house ... and super-worried about my son entering The Red Zone. He texts me that he makes it in and out of the house, gets my credit cards for me, and that there is no gas smell.  He does note that the sidewalk near our house that always has a faint odor of gas is now newly covered with a metal plate.

When I get into work, I grab a little breakfast and also stash some goodies for lunch, as well.  My stomach is going to be fine.  I also find ... tahdah ... and old deodorant (mine) in my stuff at work, but a coworker and friend brings me a fresh one (that's not a year or two aged - deodorant is not like fine wine or good cheese).

At least I am wearing relatively clean clothes, will smell fresh, and have food.  For now, anyway, because there's still so much more to tell.