Come again another day

It rained last night.

I mean, it rained.

It rained so hard an inexplicable panic gripped me -- me, who has been through hurricanes, violent storms at sea, and even a blizzard. I don't really know what it was that worried me so. Was the roof going to collapse from the sheer volume of water pounding down on it? It sounded like it, but this house has been through a fair number of wet seasons. Was the water going to come up into the house? We're up too high living in a stilt house or what they call a high-set. Would we be stranded here on the property? I love solitude and there's enough food and books to last us a few days. Would we be stranded and lose power and phone service and a crazy old hermit crawl out of the bush and break into our house and try to kill us and then me, the kids, pets, and car would all be swept away in a flash flood as we tried to escape? Something like that...

So I sat up most of the night reading -- Deepak Chopra's fictionalized biography of Buddha, which, surprisingly offered zero comfort -- waiting for the rain to stop, working up the nerve to run out and pull my car back under the house where it belonged and hoping the windows were all rolled up tight.


Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.

-- Buddha