12/18
perhaps because the air is wet and gray
gulfport this morning
is lonely (sabishii)
woke up way too early this morning. my own fault. i overestimated how much time it was going to take everyone to get ready. that's ok... i got to see the grays of gulfport turn into smoky reds. and so quiet. i wonder if it was like this before the storm?
leaving the house this morning, julia and i thought it was raining. but it was only the huge oak tree in front dripping morning dew from its leaves. coming from the airport last night, i saw lots of young trees where there used to be... something else.
today was spent roofing. more specifically, we worked on the roof of a lady who is currently living in a FEMA trailer on her front lawn. someone came in after the storm to fix her roof, but they only put on new shingles, and didn't replace the soggy boards underneath. so we tore up the lovely new roof in order to get to the rot underneath.
i am one for symbols and metaphors. taking shovels and hammers and crowbars for monotonous and neck-wrenching hours was a meditation that gave me time to think about destruction as a step in rebuilding and renewal. forest fires. many many cultures use pain as a part of ceremonies for rebirth. perhaps the screams of pain at childbirth become linked to the act itself, until suffering and new life become completely entwined, unable to exist without each other. whoever first fixed this lady's roof slapped on a happy exterior and then moved on.
some rot is deeper than the surface. sometimes back-breaking work results in more holes than when you started. my muscles are crying out in pain...
"it was kinda eerie," said andrea. "all those staircases leading to nothing."
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