Matthew

We had a hurricane last week. While Charleston began to panic and evacuate on Tuesday, the storm didn’t make it’s way to Charleston until early Saturday morning. While Yankees and assorted transplants made a break for it, locals enjoyed a few days in town that felt like it did fifteen years ago. No traffic, no lines, and plenty of time to stop and chat with strangers. It felt like the quiet and content beach town I grew up in and for three days my childhood nostalgia came to life and I got to go home again. 

On Friday we packed a few things and drove to Ellen’s house to hunker down for the storm. There was a total of ten people, two dogs, and four cats staying in Ellen’s house, each room stored a different feline and every bed, couch, and chair was slept on that night. We spent the whole day staring at each other and occasionally going outside with the dogs to wonder where the storm was. We had barbeque for dinner, watched Dirty Rotten Scoundrels for the fortieth time, played cards, and ate ice cream. Dad, Chris, Jordan, Margie, and I stayed up until 1:30 playing Phase 10, a game similar to Shanghai except longer and even more frustrating.

Things got exciting around bedtime. I slept up in Chris and Ellen’s room. Ellen and I shared the bed with one dog and one cat. Poor Chris tried to sleep somewhat upright in a chair in the corner. It started to rain hard around now and there was an occasional blasting wind gust rustling the trees outside. Apparently I was sleeping in the cat’s favorite spot. I endured a night of the dog laying across my feet and the cat dancing around my head, stepping on my hair, and lining up their vibrating purr box with my left ear. Anytime I almost dozed off, Ellen would roll over with irritability and announce to the room that she couldn’t sleep. Sometimes I woke up to the sound of her complaining. “Who could sleep through this crappin’ storm?” she shouted somewhere around 3 am.

“I was sleeping.” I told her and she apologized. Ten minutes later she let out an exasperated groan that caused the dog to stir and kick me in the side. I looked over at Chris who was awake and playing on his phone. Sometime around 3:30 the power went out and Ellen shouted, “There it goes!” and I shouted “Will you please shut up?” and then we laughed at her inability to stop talking and so the three of us got up and checked the news on our phones. It was a miserable night, one I would probably have slept through just fine if Ellen had any common courtesy.

The power came and went all morning but we were able to bake some cinnamon rolls and entertain each other until we finally felt safe to go home. The storm was much less of a disaster than the news made it out to be. That said, Downtown Charleston was completely submerged in water again and the city lost a number of pretty great trees. I hate to say we got off easy because lots of people had trees fall on their cars and houses but it was definitely less of disaster than it could have been. I was secretly embarrassed for all the people that put on a dramatic show as they fled town on Tuesday.

For the most part, all of our houses were fine. We had one major loss that mostly offends Buddy and me. We lost the dock. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. It’s not been in great shape for a while but it doesn’t make it better now that we can’t go out there. Buddy dashed about thirty feet before he reached a drop off. He looked back at me like he didn’t understand. Sometime last month our kayak disappeared. While the polite side of me wants to pretend the wind blew it away, I’m quite certain someone stole it. I don’t know where the wind learned to untie my perfectly executed sailors knots! So we can’t kayak this fall, our favorite season to kayak and now we can’t run out to the end of the dock chasing birds and lunging off for dolphins. 

I know we can rebuild it but it’s hard to imagine a whole winter without going out there. This dock was the sight of my teenage brooding, big family get-togethers, lazy afternoons, and a few cruel pranks. I learned to swing a hammer knocking those boards back into place and I attribute my knowledge of tides and seasons and weather to sitting on that dock, observing things. We had pluff-mud days, water-game days, and a day laying in the hammock with Mom trying to teach ourselves Italian. I have had so many perfect moments on that dock, my favorite one with salt dried on my warm skin and the bright afternoon sun in my eyes. I’d always planned to get married on this dock with a few twinkling lights and just the most important people present.

I wonder what Buddy’s Ode to the Dock would sound like? We’ll build a new one and I know I’ll love it and Buddy won’t notice a difference. But this one will always be my favorite.