This was the view from my window, one year and one day ago. At that moment, I was only three months into the sudden end of my marriage, and Sandy was the first emergency that I handled on my own.
Also, since I lost power with the rest of lower Manhattan, every single one of the comforts that I had relied on to get me through that confusing time vanished with the electricity. Contact with my friends, television, movies, music — gone, gone, gone, gone.
This is what I wrote in my journal the next morning:
Day the first with no power, and now the cell service has also gone down. A new wave of rain has just washed in, I should wait until 2 or 3 to leave and go on a mission for ice, water, powdered milk, bread, Advil. Whatever else I can find.
Flashing lights coming down Houston. Sound of generator. Sound of sirens. A genuine disaster here in New York City. Doesn’t even have the decency now to be stormy. It’s just quiet. The storm seems to have moved off, the wind part anyway, which was so impressive and blew the window over my desk open twice.
I sort of doubt that the power will be out for super long, but you never know and right now I have to be in survival mode. I have to conserve resources. I have to take care of me and the cats and that’s my only responsibility.
And not to go insane, that is my other responsibility. There is no internet and no texting and no email and nothing but me, and my thoughts.