First Day of Exile

As always, I woke a couple times during the night to pee. Since I have to do that outside here, the dogs dashed out to do the same. I was worried since they were off-leash, but I needn't have been concerned…they ran right back in as soon as they were done. (It may have helped that it was raining.)

I've never been here in March. I know that winter is Maui's rainy season; and that, even in the dry season, quick light rain showers are a daily occurrence.

But I've never before experienced heavy rains that last all night with but short respites, not while camping. And definitely not while camping in a leaky shed.

This is a solvable problem. The leaky seams just need to have silicone liberally applied to them, especially around the two skylights.

In any case, the rain was finally over when I woke around 9. I knew Jenny and Zach wouldn't be able to get here before noon at the earliest. And when they did arrive, one of them would take the quad down to get me…I hoped. So I figured I may as well hang around the shed, where at least I had a cot to sit or lie on. Besides, I wanted to let the dogs get used to being here.

They sniffed around a little, keeping mostly to the front of the shed where they could see me. Then they simply relaxed, as if they were inside our old apartment.

The view inside the shed was appalling: To me, at least, with my undiagnosed but undeniable OCD with a side order of ADD. It wasn't that I only had the cot for furniture. Well, actually, that was most of it. So I determined to ask for one of the folding tables I'd seen near Zach's container, and maybe one of the folding chairs. If I could get things organized, maybe they wouldn't seem so bleak.

By noon I decided I would drive Jenny's car back up the hill. The dogs got back into it eagerly. But getting started turned out to be easier said than done, as all the rain had made the grass slick as snot. I was just about to give up when somehow it found enough traction and got going.

Jenny and the toddlers and Zach were already up there, as it turned out. The generator was on, which meant the wifi/internet/satellite connection was active, and I would be able to call Keith, as well as receive a ton of text messages and voicemails.

The dogs were beside themselves with joy over the toddlers, of course, whom the dogs adore (and vice versa). But then, they just took it easy, content that they were surrounded by most of the people they love.

But then, more weather began to creep in. Things were put away, and Zach took me down to the shed in his truck, carrying the table and chairs I'd requested, as well as a clothes hanger/cubby sort of thing for me to assemble. Oh, and he brought a composting toilet with an instruction book that reads like the final report of the Manhattan Project.

I have always prided myself in feeling at home anywhere. When I was in Germany, a woman asked me for directions…in German! In Mexico, all the locals assumed I spoke Spanish. I've made a winter, solo backpacking trip.

So it's been very strange to me that I don't feel at home here yet—especially since I've spent various weeks here before, and always felt like I belonged, whichis why I was so delighted when Jenny bought this property.

Perhaps it's because I know the world itself is being shaken to its core. People in Italy and other countries are dropping like flies from the coronavirus; and they were much better prepared than we were. There is talk of stopping all air travel; there is talk of closing off Maui. I heard a rumor (from one of the workmen) that someone wearing a badge had taken it on himself to refuse to let tourists drive to Hana, whether they had reservations or not.

But maybe it's closer to home than that. I miss my husband more than I ever imagined I would (and I did imagine I would).

And maybe all I need to do is get this place organized, with the new things (table, toilet, chairs, clothes rack) Zach brought.

But not tonight.