An earthquake and a hurricane visited our home in the same week, and these unruly guests left us with some memorabilia of their stay.
You’d think I’d notice if the ground moved under me, but apparently I’m so oblivious that a little rocking and rolling didn’t register as odd. My best guess is that the earthquake struck while I was pushing a cart and wrestling my grocery list from a curious one year old. The first sign I had that something odd happened was when a store employee dashed from the backroom to the office, asking “What was that?”
What was what? I thought the wonky wheel of my cart was rattling a little too loudly.
Our Civil War era home did not ignore the quake, as its walls testify.
I might have missed the earthquake, but we all knew when the hurricane struck. Winds howled, rainwater spilled out of its containment ditches and pooled onto our street. By God’s grace, our basement stayed dry. Our attic was not as lucky.
That night we discovered a coffee-colored stain above our bed. “I see a penguin dancing the hula,” I said.
“I see a bear’s head — and a leaky roof,” my husband responded as he threw off the blankets and clamored up the attic stairs. (He’s my hero. I huddled under the blankets and thinking of deserts, Texas, and other dry places.)
He emptied a few Tupperware storage boxes and placed them under the dripping roof. Mercifully the bear’s head has not grown nor the penguin changed his hula position since the storm.