A friend on the island writes . . .
More and more buildings are going dark.
As the reality of the situation becomes better known, people are starting to conserve, and even those with generators are only using them a few hours a day.
The roads are starting to let up a little now as the curfew was lifted at 5 a.m., and people are starting to line up outside of closed gas stations for the chance to get some fuel for their cars. One more cigarette, one more sip of coffee, and I will be joining them.
And yet, I’m one of the lucky ones.
Flights off the island are either fully booked or canceled. For weeks.
I live here, I have a home here, so I don’t have to be at the airport every day with, all of my belongings, trying to return from a vacation that turned out to be anything but. I’m fairly sure that all the people that I care about here are safe, even if their homes and possessions are damaged. My own home while by no means comfortable remains intact.
And I pray, for us, the people in Mexico, and in thanks for all the things that I have.
Which definitely includes a kick-ass support system, in the form of all of you who’ve reached out to various methods to make sure that I’m okay, that my spirit’s okay, which it is.