Waiting

IT’S been hot. The kind of hot that makes you want to lie down and never get up.

The kind of hot where the crickets hiss instead of chirp; when the sky is blue but you swear it feels white, and the heat steals your strength but won’t let you sleep. It’s a horrible kind of hot.

The worst is nap time. When I have to sit under the kids’ useless fan and nurse the baby off to sleep and wait for a toddler, sweaty and restless, to be coaxed into sleep.

At least today, I could hear… well, I heard the neighbour rolling their bin down to the curb, when I realised it was not Bin Night and that was, in fact, the mistaken sound of an approaching summer storm.

Hallelujah!

The promise of rain, of wind and… lately… blackouts and flash floods.

Little less “hallelujah”.

When Cyclone Yasi (aside: my favourite Far North Qld quote for last week… “Kiss my Yasi!” written on boarded-up windows) hit the coast last week, I was fretting for my sister and her two daughters living on a Townsville hillside – a rag tag trio of wild beauty and book-smarts.

While I was praying for their safety, it remained eerily calm down this end of the state. It felt like everyone had taken a deep breath and held it overnight.

I was awake most of the night. Waiting on a text message, waiting for news and waiting for a completely unrelated phonecall from South Carolina.

I should never think too hard about anything on such nights – but I couldn’t help thinking that so much of my life lately feels like waiting. Waiting on the book, the launch… waiting for kids to sleep, waiting for the inevitable hour of night that the kids wake up and I sprint (hobble) to their side, waiting for a cyclone to hit… and suddenly feeling unable to wait to see my sister again.

PS. The map is a little dated. That was before TC Yasi formed.

PPS. Since I wrote this, the weather has gone all windy and cool. Nice!

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