Wednesday, January 7, 2026  

     At noon I walk on the deck.  Rain hasn’t started. Crows calling out danger for a few minutes. Chainsaws working and of course traffic noise. Then sirens in the neighborhood. Two sounds, a long piercing sound and short fast alerts.  No signs of smoke. I make up stories before I give up.  I just don’t know. Later Facebook reports fallen pine trees.

     The house cleaners arrive, and change the beds, and vacuumed and clean the house. I stay out of their way. I am so grateful for their help.

     Big puddles outside in the parking area. Water moves over the street from higher ground. Weather is everywhere.

     Mostly the house is quiet.  I put away kitchen clutter, not all of it but some clutter. I spend more time reading, finishing up some books that I had started. I need to go to pharmacy for more vaccinations. I got the latest flu vaccine but not the others. I do not understand why it is such a challenge to just go to the pharmacy. I seldom leave my home.

 

Tuesday, January 6, 2026

     I stay in my bedroom listening to the family pack up their suitcases and establish order back in the house. They have a noon flight back to New York. They leave the house in better condition then before. Two healthy young men and two charming talented middle aged women. We hug, take pictures, say good by and they are off. I walk through the house. Nothing of theirs is left behind. They are gone and the house is quiet.  My daughter roommate and I check in with each other and then spend most of the day in silence as we adjust to our quiet life.

     Garbage day. The tall young man drags my over full bins to the curb before getting into the rental car. Can’t forget garbage day even during the good by rituals. Garbage can’t wait. Garbage doesn’t care.

     My writing friend comes at 4 and we decide to just talk. We catch up with stories of current family life. I start a fire in the fireplace that peters out before it really catches.

     I finish reading NEXT OF KIN, a memoir by Gabrielle Hamilton. A powerful writer about her family and growing up and growing old. Lots of it is unsettling as I think back to my childhood and my times as a parent. No escape from that clutching feeling that we may not have understood what was actually going on.

 

Monday, January 5, 2026

     Moving day, not sure I can write this morning. They are packing up, getting ready for their flight back to New York. I stay out of the way. I am told that there is mild flooding in the basement from these last rains. Water table must be high. Dishes are washed, suitcases packed. Everyone is tense and working on staying calm. More rain is coming.