|They sky over Bath: 25 August 2011|
The rain came in the hour-long deluges that are infrequent visitors to this part of England. I'm inclined to tell you that the rain and cool weather are all part of a typical English August. But those who chart these things remind me that August isn't much more inclined to rain than any other summer month. And though the pace of the rain strikes me as untypical, I am glad for the occasional washout of a day.
The week has been too eventful on the other side of the ocean. I've written before about the difficulty of not being able to snap my fingers and return to support my family and friends. For most of my adult life, I've lived too far away to turn up --it is not simply a function of choosing life here. I could not have changed or even mitigated this week's events for my sister and her family any more than I could have changed or mitigated the events of past Augusts for any of my sisters. There are times when it seems that it would be easier, if only I were there.
My east-coast sister and her family are safe and warm in their own home tonight. They have electricity and have returned to work. As the photos begin to come in from Vermont, from the Outer Banks, I am saddened for all of the people who were not so lucky.
I am reminded that I could live in the same block as all of my sisters, and I still could not wrap them in enough cotton wool to keep them out of harm's way. I am not ready for this early autumn, followed as it will be by winter, but I am done with August.