Today it's dry outside. For example; the bird bath, which was full last night, is empty, no trace of water. Today, when the infrequent car drives up my narrow lane, dust rises in puffs that resemble a smoker's exhale. Today after sweeping my driveway and then running down the road, playing with my kids and dogs, my throat immediately aches, my lungs burn. I live in a place with extremes in weather.
Two winters ago, home alone on a weekend morning, I woke to the whimpering of my bigger dog. He was new to me then and his waking me to go outside was not a problem. I appreciated it even. He'd made a choice to communicate with me, I knew. He could have easily relieved himself inside on the carpet or worse still, lifted his leg to my bed, as he'd done once or twice in the previous months.
Though it was cold and damp, I got right up, pulled on rain boots with my pajamas, ready to take him out in the very early and still dark morning, happy to do so.
Our rain was torrential and had been for days. A creek was forming at the far side of my property, The road was washing out, but I'd been through this before. Nothing new about flooding to me. Nothing new about crazy rain. Extreme rain, extreme dry, these are regularities in my irregular, regular life.
Because of the heaviness of the downpour, I chose to forgo letting him out at the kitchen, instead moving further through the house and into the garage, where I'd just lift the bigger, panel door up. He'd want me to come with him outside and this would suffice, I assumed. I could stand in the garage doorway, remain dry, call him back quickly and maybe return to my bed before I was fully awake. Enjoy the utter decadence of still warm sheets for a few more hours of precious snoozing.
I shoved at the door, planning to flip it open like I always did, using my shoulder to push. But the door surprised me, rapidly loosing it's upward momentum. Soaked and swollen from pooling water, the heavy wood came ricocheting back downward. Its increased weight combined with gravity pounded into me, sending shocking waves of pain, dislocating my right shoulder. I saw stars. I was awestruck, dumb-struck, just plain struck. I stood there in the dark of the garage wondering what to do next.
The Hurt Locker is not a good movie to choose on PayPerView when you're alone near dawn, in a three day long downpour, sitting with your arm propped up by pillows, your neck and collar bone packed in ice, while you're wiggling incrementally trying to reconnect shoulder bones into the socket, slowly, bit by itty bit. It comes across as depressing in fact and it creates a mental anguish that combines just fabulously with physical anguish.
As I sat, rationalizing that I could in fact heal myself without bothering to go to the ER, I sipped coffee with Frangelico to numb myself. It's a very good thing on a rainy, painy morning.
I heard something I'd call a "disturbance" coming from the rear of my house and I tortured myself enough to turn my neck and see what the fuss might be. The rain outside the window was turning brownish. I decided to take a closer look. How very interesting and timely my "taking a look" proved to be. As I stood at the glass door of my kitchen, cradling my throbbing arm I actually saw a rockslide/mudslide happen. It is rare I know. Its extreme even and so watching it was somehow magically beautiful, almost as much so as it was difficult to endure. It looked as though a giant, might have been stripping above the clouds, throwing down his brown clothing, piece by piece toward earth below him. Some globs of falling mud were small as the giants socks might be. Then came his shirt, his underpants, loose change from his pockets, his brown trousers, but then came his cloak. Oh shoot. A boulder, big and dark fell fast and landed in the last place I'd wanted to watch it settle. My hot tub.
I got my camera and snapped photos as disappearing water held previously within, rapidly vanished through the cracking tub.
I felt an odd and satisfying connection to the film Hurt Locker, when it won an academy award.
My shoulder healed quickly, my hot tub has since been replaced and today there is no sign of rain. None what-so-bone-dry-ever.
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