The Proper Distance Between Unexpected Events

Our state was hit hard last weekend by a storm that took down trees, utility poles, flooded streets, and left thousands of people still without electricity. My particular town and my specific house were affected, but we’re back to normal now, electricity responding to flicks of switches, presses of buttons. The internet is happily thrumming along as well, from every charged up device and portal.

Today, Tuesday, I learned that the inkling of a possible storm is now confirmed monster due to hit us Wednesday. High winds are expected to sculpt over a foot of snow layered on ice.

No. This cannot be happening. Again. It can’t. We’re past our limit. Some of us are still dealing with the last crisis; we cannot take another one. Those of us walking in the bright, warm sunshine today joked about the storm to come, talked about what we were going to do to prepare for the next onslaught.

I know, I know, this is first world problems talking, but it’s still…

Not fair?

We had our rough time over the weekend. Shouldn’t that be enough? Haven’t we done our share of making do, bucking up and hunkering down and done it incredibly well, with brutal charm and good cheer?

We did.

That’s not how the world works. I can hear my father’s voice telling young Louise how the world works. Life is not fair.

The voice in my head continues its reasonable, well-considered perspective. It’s not up to you to run the Universe; your job is to live in it, do the best that you can with what you are given.

I guess that means that the hours I spent this morning altering plans for a flight and long weekend away are just part of life. The snow that will need shoveling and tromping down for an old dog to manage outdoors? Part of life. The interruptions and complications and preparations for whatever may come? Part of life.

Now smiling, I look at the candles, amazing camp lanterns, the wild array of flashlights. I know what to do because I did it just a few days ago — have not yet put all of it away. What was most important to clean up and deal with has been done.

I salute those who made the deal with possible: Emil in Jamaica who switched my flight and found me a seat when none were available, Ben in Customer Care for another organization who made sure that I had what I needed for my trip, the ever-cheerful Bobby who made accommodations sound like the very thing he had been longing to do.

None of the helpful on-line resources took care of my sudden personal crisis due to the inevitable. People did.

So, when I hear that artificial intelligence is going to write a bestselling book in the years to come, I wonder, but am not concerned. Devices and AI have nothing on humans, are wonderful tools that allow me to quickly recover from a storm and prepare for the next one, but they can’t do what the humans did, made me smile and feel cared for and heard.

Life is not fair. A storm comes on top of another one. A flood follows a hurricane. Pestilence and disease follow natural disasters.

Life is not fair, but people are — or can be if they are anything like the incomparable Emil, Ben, and Bobby. Timing is what it is — again, there is nothing that I or anyone can do about it, but if the Universe is listening, which I know for a fact that it is, I’d like about a month or six between small catastrophes. Or maybe never. Is never possible?

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