Take care: SUNSHINE

It’s 8 A.M. The Today show is on but I fear it is a figment of my imagination. Staying away from windows, I cringe in the blackness of a raging electrical storm. The TV. is blaring. Weather reports interrupt every show often. One hundred thirty one lightning strikes have hit Boynton Beach, FL in the last hour. The slanting onslaught of rain already measures three inches. Are we going to be another Yazoo, MI that became a mere pile of splinters two days ago? Traffic drags, slips and slides. A tractor trailer has skidded, is upside down and is blocking I 95 from Jupiter to Lindsey.

 

My largest, brightest flashlight is by my side on the sofa, just in case. In case happens. The t.v. goes black.  Not a big deal. I have the A.C. turned off and the apartment is getting stuffy. The refrigerator and range are still working so I believe I am blessed. At least five lion prides rumble in the sky. Flashes of white lightning force the ceiling lights to blink on and off. How much longer will there be an ‘on’?

 

I take a quick peek out of the den window. The usual blue lake is brown and rising fast. The new mama duck and her seven ducklings must be in hiding. Blackness moves in. Day becomes night. I admit to myself I am scared. Above the din, the wind whistles thru the trees. I think I hear a knock on my door but shut the thought out. The knock becomes a pounding nuisance. Ordinarily I don’t open my door until I check who is there thru the round prism hole. This time is different. I throw it open and see the unbelievable. It’s the UPS man. He looks like a drowned rat that has been fed strychnine. The package in his hand looks no better. It’s brown paper wrap is soggy, wrinkled. The square box is almost flat. ‘Are you Ms. Brager?’ he asks. ‘Yes, come in, come in.’ ‘Ma’am, please sign this and I’ll be gone.

 

The weather has made me very late and other people re waiting for me.’ I get uppity and tell him I won’t sign unless he relaxes for a few minutes and has a cup of hot green tea with me. ‘Ma’am, I can’t do that. Please sign the delivery sheet.’ ‘Tell me what size shoe do you wear?’ ‘Why do you ask me such a dumb question,

 

Ms. Brager. I told you I have to get going.  I’ve left the lights and motor on in the truck. 8 ½ EE.’ ‘Now, what a coincidence, Mr. UPs Man. My husband wears the same size. Don’t move. I’ll bring you a dry pair with dry socks.’ ‘Thank, you, Ma’am but I can’t take your kind offer. Sign now or I’m taking the package back on the truck. If it’s ruined, put in a claim. UPS will cover it.

 

I pull my ace in  the hole. ‘Don’t leave. I’m all alone and so frightened of lightning. Did you know lightning comes before the thunder? ‘Yes, Ma’am, I know that. I am leaving.’ Not only am I frightened, I’m angry and disappointed. ‘Okay, go, go. I don’t care!’ He takes the wet box and goes. Where he stood there is a puddle of brownish water.

 

Fire engines come close, their sirens screaming over the thunder.
FP&L trucks are right behind them. I watch the action. The FPL workers climb poles, check wires. The lights in the building go out. No way can I stay alone in the dark, not knowing what is next. My flashlight helps me find some old rainwear and a floppy oil skin hat. In a corner of the closet are some old ankle high boots. I manage to get them on and take the elevator down ten floors, stand in the lobby trying to find out what is happening. The rain still falls making a Niagara Falls down the facade of the building. Firemen are inside, checking the storage room, the generator. I am told to go back upstairs. Reluctantly I go, wait thirty minutes and come down again. Nobody pays attention to me, tell me nothing. The fire dept. leaves. I corner one of the FPL men who has a softer, kinder approach.

‘You are all lucky. Lightning  hit the condenser around the corner. It could have caused not only a wide outage but a fire. We’re through. You can go upstairs and not worry. All is well.’ The storm has abated and all is returning to normal.

 

At eight o’clock I am startled by a knock on the door. I look thru the peephole but can’ recognize the distorted face. ‘Who’s there?’ I ask. The man replies, ‘ I’m the UPs man who was here this morning. May I come in?’ I unlock the door and there he is, holding my re-wrapped package and a bouquet  of aqua peonies. ‘Don’t get nervous. I’m a happily married man with two daughters. The flowers are for your thoughtfulness offering me dry shoes and socks.  I just want to repay you in this small way.’ I am overcome, almost wordless for a moment.

 

Then words come to me. ‘Mr. UPs Man, what is your name? Would you like to have that green tea now?’