We're knights of the round table
We dance when e'er we're able
We do routines and parlour scenes
With footwork impecc-Able.
We dine well here in Camelot
We eat ham and jam and spam a lot
- from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Scene 6
Oh goodness! So much running about and hauling this and bagging that and hammering loudly and standing in line and WELL! This must be hurricane preparation! It is a dance of sorts. All about impeccable timing and grace under pressure and knowing the steps because you've practiced them again and again. Unless it's your first time dancing these steps, in which case you simply follow along as best you can, apologizing profusely as you stumble and trip and step on people's toes.
You'd think we were preparing for a big blow out of a party....stocking food and drink to feed an army, hiding away the breakables and covering things in plastic, rolling up the good rugs and hiding them from party-goers. If Irma decides to make merry here, we will eat like royalty for a month. Well, if royalty likes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and fig newtons dunked in beer, that is.
Along with all the frenzied activity, however, comes a whole new level of philosophical thinking and appreciation for every little thing in life. Yesterday I went through drawers of old family photos, packing them in plastic and tucking them back in like the babies who have now grown into our children. I stared at piles of books wondering which ones deserved the last few heavy duty ziplock bags (the store shelves are empty of these), cherishing the richness of the written word. Knickknacks were stuffed into closets and cupboards to prevent them from becoming projectiles in the event the roof blows off...maybe I don't need these anyway.
And it all filtered down into this one line from Mark Nepo's Seven Thousand Ways to Listen : the fragile, resilient miracle of life is unrepeatable. This week, I can feel this deep in my bones.