my life as a series of minor disasters

Act 1

Scene 1

The stage is set. It is Monday, the eighth of December. Tierney rises early and, for once in their lives, both she and Camille are ready to leave for work with time to spare. Tierney even feels comfortable enough with the day's progression to drive slightly under the speed limit. Then, about halfway through Hartley, it happens. An elderly gentleman on his way to the grocery store makes an ill-considered left turn, and the crunch of shattered glass and crumpled metal announces the end of the short life of Tierney's Camry. As the smoke and dust slowly drift away, it becomes apparent that the right side of Cami's face has not reacted well to its encounter with the airbag, and the man in the other vehicle is bleeding pretty steadily out the back of his hand. But that is the extent of the damage to human life from this encounter, and everyone is thankful.

Scene 2

Fast forward to Tuesday, December ninth. Tierney, in spite of a deep-seated conviction that there is nothing in the world the matter with her, agrees to a precautionary post-crash trip to the chiropractor. Camille is scheduled to see the chiropractor a little later the same morning, as well as the opthomologist, for her eye was scratched and bruised in the collision. Altogether, the appointments ought to take only a couple of hours, and Tierney should be able to return to work at noon. But, alas and alack, the highways and byways have all been thoroughly coated with a glassy layer of ice, and are impassable at speeds greater than 30 miles an hour. After much toil and travail, Cami's eye is examined and proclaimed mostly-healed, both girls get their necks thoroughly cracked, and Tierney finally arrives at work a full two hours before it is time to go home.


Intermission

(From Wednesday, December tenth, through most of Saturday, December thirteenth, life proceeds at a fairly normal rate, pausing only for occasional tic-like problems that register but as small blips on the radar screen, and which are almost immediately forgotten. This is a good time to go out and replenish your supply of popcorn and Diet Pepsi, if you're running out.)

Act 2

Scene 1

Saturday, the thirteenth of December, flies by with nary an incident, but Tierney wraps up the day with a long, vivid, and disturbing dream about vampires, which finally awakens her at 6:00 in the morning. This occurrence, subsequently deemed the worst nightmare Tierney has ever had, is made all the stranger by the fact that she has never watched a vampire movie, and has thought about vampires approximately twice in her life.

Scene 2

The date is Sunday, December the fourteenth. Tierney and her mother drive to the evening worship service in spite of impending weather problems, due largely to the fact that the choir is singing before church this evening, and Tierney is the designated choir pianist. Upon the conclusion of the service, offers of places to stay the night begin to fill the air, and a glance outside proves them not unjustified. A short venture out onto the highway proves them very well justified indeed. The Erwin van makes an about-face, and proceeds instead to the Visser abode, where it remains until the next morning. Its human inhabitants, along with the residents of said abode and another family of refugees, amuse themselves until midnight by playing "Apples to Apples" and a very dangerous game of spoons. After being soundly beaten in the latter, and declared "neat", "delightful", "offensive", "revolutionary", and "aged" in the former, Tierney parts ways at last with her church attire, and falls soundly (not to mention dreamlessly) asleep in a very soft bed.

Scene 3

The fifteenth day of December is a Monday, and is, incidentally, Keegan's thirteenth birthday. School is given a two-hour-late start, much to the relief of Tierney, who will now have sufficient time to return home, shower, and find something more suitable to wear than a sweater and a tiered skirt, before returning for work by 10:30. Unfortunately, when she and her mother arrive home, they discover that the shower drain has frozen in their absence, and that the only person to get a shower has been Keegan, who remains unaware of the problem until later. Tierney makes do the best she can, but has a fairly rotten day at school. Late starts are not, she decides, good for anyone. However, at last the schoolday ends, and when she returns home she finds her mother making a pecan pie to take along to Keegan's birthday celebration with Grandpa and Grandma in an hour and a half. But what, in such a situation, is the electricity to do but go out? So it goes out. And it stays out. The family abandons the pecan pie project, finishes their preparations in the dark, and departs for the Pizza Ranch in Spencer. While there, Tierney eats just under ten pounds of food off the buffet, and drops a piece of dessert pizza on its face. The electricity is, we are happy to report, once more operational when the troops return some hours later.

Scene 4

On the morning of Tuesday, the sixteenth day in December, Tierney wakes up and shivers violently. Her face is cold, her feet are cold, her blankets are cold, and her mind is cold. Whose bright idea was it to turn the heater off in the middle of the night? Apparently it was the heater's idea, and it's sticking to it. Tierney pumps all the hot air and steam into the bathroom that she can find, and still barely survives her shower. She dons three long-sleeved shirts, wishes her chilly family all the best, and leaves for work. One can only hope that the repairman will arrive soon. (And he does.)

Let us hear the conclusion of the matter.

Tierney walks slowly through the quiet, powdery snow, squinting her eyes a little against the flurries of snowflake clumps still making their leisurely way down from the heavens. She shuffles her feet and kicks the snow around, smiling for no good reason at all. She's trying to think of a new way to describe the snow, a fresh, true way that will bring a vivid picture to your mind and make you think of it in a way that never occurred to you before. Gently falling powder snow deserves to be described in such a way; but she can't think of anything. One wishes for the mind of C.S. Lewis at times like this. In spite of this failure on her part, she is not downcast. It is hard to be sad when school has been let out early because of the weather (which is not even all that bad), and there is snow falling all around, as if all the world is a giant snow globe that has just got itself righted. Is there anything so quiet as snowfall without wind, the soft feather flakes brushing gently together, rustling on the very edge of hearing? Ah, life is beautiful, disasters and all.