Even before flying back here, there were already rumblings – in the pit of my stomach primarily – of how I was about enter a cave. I’m not quite sure what triggered that particular image but I ceded to it just the same.
So this, my cave-like haven, is where I write, read and blog from since last week. Not only because I am in the basement, which though windowless, is perhaps the coolest room in the house. Certainly it is among the darkest, which normally provides ideal conditions for me to sleep.
Finding myself burrowed below ground reminds me that I am in, and surrounded by, the earth. That the packed soil on the other side of this wall, nourishes us all through the food that it supplies; indeed, we’ve been feasting on cherry tomatoes! And that the earth and all that it brings forth and nurtures will continue to do so as we tread lightly, gently, carefully, lovingly, over the next week or so.
The basement has been an ideal hideout for other reasons as well. Ever since the earthquake hit last Friday, I’ve been waking up at about the same witching hour, of 5 AM. If my eyes do not open already awash in tears, then I know the floodgates will open shortly thereafter. It’s the only time of day I indulge myself, releasing pent-up stress and worries of the previous day. And when I begin wondering what lies ahead today, but mostly tomorrow.
(I also realize that any attempts to write decent text, with proper grammar and punctuation, at such an ungodly hour is bound to be an exercise in futility)