Here’s to Heels

Weird. I’m happy. Some might say we’ve been royally screwed every which way from Sunday. Hell, I might say that. I would have said it this past Friday and I might say it again next week. But right now, today, in this small snapshot, I am completely, tinglingly, unequivocally happy.

Sandy has hung over every enjoyable moment since 10/29/12. That storm took our pretty puffy clouds in its bully fists and wrung them into a twisted, dark mass.

DSC01190

The sun pokes holes here and there but the cloud is always there, and it’s made up of dark droplets of why how when. When will he call us back? Why is our house empty again? Why is New York Rising giving us nothing when we raised and rebuilt an entire house? How could our insurance company short us by $110,000? Why has Interim Mortgage Assistance withdrawn the rental payments we fought for and finally won after seven months? When will our case manager return my call from two weeks ago? How many institutions have to sign this measly check from my insurance company for $1800 of the $40,000 we paid for foundation work? Why do I then have to turn it over to the SBA as a “Duplication of Benefits” when A LOAN IS NOT A BENEFIT? Why is our flood insurance going up when we raised our house 9 feet in the air?

Why is it how can they when will he how could he when will we get to how come we can’t they promised us he promised to why don’t they understand that why don’t they ever pick up how can I answer the phone when how will we ever if only we had OMG I AM DONE!

Done.

This past Saturday things looked bleak and we had the night off together. We needed to discuss the six ways from Sunday and the what if’s and the what will we’s, and we did. But we found ourselves enjoying each other. Wow, this is nice, we said. Just being with you. Hunh. Why is this so easy tonight? Why are we kissing and laughing and feeling at home?

I guess we just decided to. Both of us, on the same night, realizing we were in a worse position than ever since starting our journey home—both of us just flipped the switch.

No more.

I made a Snoopy playlist—of you know, those songs that raise your nose to the sky and stretch your mouth into a contented, shut-eyed grin? I am ditching the Ziggy cloud and living the Snoopy playlist.

Just as I finished up that last paragraph, our wedding song came on. Of course, we had to dance to it—but this place is not exactly conducive. I kicked closed the cabinet to make more room, but the garbage can was behind it and it tumbled over, spilling the contents. Then my heel split the saddle separating the carpet from the tile, which cracks at the slightest pressure. I laughed. He laughed, guiding me off the splintering wood and toward the garbage pile. I said, “This is where we are.”

This is where we are. Laughter.

Here’s to heels on cucumber peels.

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