lesley crewe

author

There are days….

on May 7, 2010

On Tuesday I got up at 5 a.m. because I had to be at the Whycocomagh Education Centre before 8:30 a.m., so I wanted to give myself lots of time. If I rush, I tend to get hot flashes, so the best course of action is to fake out my brain and pretend to be a calm and serene person. (My brain is not deceived.)

At 5:06 a.m., I’m in the shower. At 5:07 the power goes out. There goes the water, since we live on a well. A few choice words and I’m fumbling for a towel in the dark. There will be no tea, no toast and no hairdryer. I throw on some makeup by candlelight. In the semi-dark it looked great. Not so much when daylight began to break.

I collect all my things and open the door to go to the car. I’m in the middle of a hurricane. My hair dries every which way in a matter of seconds, before I can get the car door open. Where did this freakish wind come from? I know I have to cross the Seal Island Bridge. This is never good. I have a “thing” about bridges, and wind is unwelcome. But I’ve made a play date with several dozen kids and a few teachers and so I must venture forth. I turn the car key.

NOTHING. DEAD. ZIP. UNRESPONSIVE.

In a panic, I give the horn a blast to inform my husband something has gone awry. I don’t realize he’s standing beside the window and not in the house. I open the door. “THE CAR WON”T START!!!!!!”

Now when I’m panicking, I expect a panicked response. It’s only polite. But the only thing he says is, “Take my car.” Oh right, we have another car. So I take all my stuff out of my car and put it in his van, and he takes all his carpentry stuff out of his van and leaves it on the step. I run into the house to go to the john yet again and then race around and try to find his keys, and make sure I know which keys have the house key on them because I don’t know his keys very well….I don’t know what order they’re in, if you know what I mean….pathetic.

So I jump back in his van, start it up and realize, I don’t have my glasses on. I feel my face not believing they aren’t there, because they’re always there. So after attacking myself, I attack my purse, my book bag, my other book bag and look around the seat and the floor, but they aren’t there. I honk the horn again…..a few times actually. John peers around the side of the house.

I holler out the car window. “Where are my glasses?!”

“What glasses?”

“My glasses glasses!!”

“Don’t you have them on?”

“OH, I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T SEE IF I HAVE THEM ON. OF COURSE I DON’T HAVE THEM ON!!!!!! GO FIND THEM!!!!!”

So he runs back in the house, I run over to my car, thinking I must have dropped them in my rush from one car to the other. My luck I’ll step on them. I’m rooting through the front seat, when John comes out with them.

“Where were they?”

“In the bathroom, where you left them.”

I finally leave. I drive two hours in the wind storm. And STILL monster trucks are passing me. Are these guys nuts? So I shiver and shake and close my eyes as I jitterbug over the bridge. Get to the school, a gorgeous spot with fantastic views, great teachers and super kids and just as I’m starting in on my talk, the power goes out.

And kept going out for the rest of the day, but we soldiered on, nonetheless. I met a boy named Duncan I could have happily taken home with me and a little girl who told me her grandmother’s name was Cinderella.

The kids in that school made the whole ordeal worth it. But I have to admit, by the time I got home at 5 p.m., after two more hours of driving in gale force winds, I was beat. 

My hat goes off to all the great teachers out there….my hat, my scarf, my scrap of paper with directions on it…..

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