Irony.

It’s been a surreal few days here in Vermont.  Our lake and our house emerged without a scratch from the hurricane and the floods, but all around us is devastation that I have not seen in person yet.  I am following everything on the news and the pictures tell a horrifying story of the roads, the villages and the landscape just minutes from our place.

There are thousands of people posting online that they are available and willing to help with flood relief, offering  supplies, equipment, time, etc. I want to do this too, but my sense is that perhaps there may be an overabundance of this type of intention right now, so I need to do some more research to figure out what I there is I really can do.

I am worried about our Athens friends and their cabin in Rochester, Vermont.  Susan was there alone during the storm and I haven’t heard anything or been able to get in touch with Joe about how she fared.  There is no way to get to Rochester right now because all roads are blocked and it is one of the dozen or so towns still officially stranded. 

It is definitely a strange feeling to be safe and untouched here in our vacation home.  I don’t know if you’d call it survivor’s guilt or not, but this is a summer getaway, not our necessary shelter, and I can still sit here with my power, my internet, my amazing view, and my tranquility and go about my day as if nothing happened.  If our cabin had been washed away or squashed by a tree, it would have been devastating to our family and those who know and love our lake, but not in the same way as it has been for the thousands of people who lost their businesses, their year-round homes, their pets, their farms and their villages.

Now that I think about it, this is probably what has been bothering me the past few days.  We love our summer home very much, but if it were gone, all it would mean is that we wouldn’t have a summer place anymore, and that would be that.

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