Things That Don’t Happen

The house two doors down from us has been under construction for quite awhile, and let me tell you, it is looking GORGEOUS—definitely making our shabby house look even worse! It’s been super fun to watch the progress of it, to recognize the workers and to truly appreciate their hard work. Those guys WORK. I’m not quite sure what they were doing yesterday, but they had a cute little digger, and were digging right beside our house (the houses are VERY close together—I can stand between them and touch them both) and the cute little digger accidentally dug into our gas line. I was later told that the pipe was not straight, it was curved—So when they were digging beside the known line, they hit the weird, mysterious curved section. Misfortune! I was out back with Sylvi and Martin, but I guess the other girls were at the table doing their school work and were actively complaining about the loud hissing sound coming from out front for quite a while before they eventually heard the worker knocking to alert us. Elka came out the back door and with remarkable calm said, “We have to get out. They hit a gas line, they said we have to get out.” Calamity! Being far from the problem and getting my information secondhand, I wasn’t super certain of the situation, but the girls said the house smelled awful though they hadn’t realized what it was until then. The girls (who were only the four youngers, as Anja was at work) were so amazingly swift and efficient, and we just got ourselves out of there via the back gate and cutting through some lawns, then stood around barefooted and badly dressed on the sidewalk at a safe distance down the block while the gas company and firemen came to the rescue. It was mostly exciting, with only a few frightened tears from a couple of the girls, especially when Martin went back to talk to the firefighters and prepare ours and the neighbors’ houses for them the way they instructed (unlocked, but with doors closed.) The ONLY really sad part was that we had left Ingrid’s most beloved toy behind, which she usually has on her body, but for some reason didn’t just then. His name is Leo and he is an African Wild Dog made by her cousin, very specially, and he rides in a fanny pack with her all day every day and sleeps under her pillow at night. I’m not sure why he was still under her pillow at this time and not in his fanny pack, but it caused some tears. We had Tillie, our dog with us but not her leash—what luck that Greta was wearing drawstring pants! She generously offered her drawstring as leash. We really were a sight!

Other than the missing toy and the awkwardness of leaving in a hurry, it was pretty nice. It was a beautifully sunny fall day, a little chilly and windy, but bright and comfortable in the sunshine. Of course, I say this in the afterward, knowing that it all turned out okay. But here’s the truth: it was a very good practice in gratitude and letting go, because as we awaited an explosion (which didn’t happen, thankfully) I kind of thought, “We are all here. We’re all safe. We are together. So what if we have a new beginning after today?” And after I thought that, Ingrid spoke aloud the exact same thoughts. “It would be kind of nice to start over,” she said. Yeah, I thought. Maybe it would be kind of nice.

I thought of all the things we might lose that would make us sad—the baby keepsakes, the beloved toys, the photographs, the art, aaaallll the books, the projects we’ve worked so hard on, the handmade heirlooms, the Blue Truck… and I thought how sad that would be to lose all of those most special things, but ultimately, I was just so grateful to have us all there together.

Then I thought of the great inconvenience of losing everything. The social security cards and birth certificates, the computers, the dishes, the cookware, the beds, the coats and toothbrushes and snowsuits, and all the things you need to make a home for seven people—what an enormous, sad, pain in the neck. But again—we were together.

And THEN I thought of all the people who HAVE lost everything through fire, flood, or flight, and I hoped and prayed that they are making it through okay and that they aren’t alone.

I don’t know how gas lines work, and maybe I misunderstood, but it seems the line they hit was specifically the line into our house? That made me pretty nervous about lingering impacts, but they came in and did a “leak test” and it all checked out ok, evidently. And we are supposed to not be charged for all the gas that was “used” in the fiasco. When we were cleared to go back inside the house smelled terrible and nobody wanted to stay, so we just got shoes and sweaters, opened all the windows, and took a little walk down the street to the candy store for fountain drinks and mint candies. All was well. We’d lost nothing. I still was nervous all night, especially since the little girls’ bedroom window is nearest to the line they hit… but when I got up the next morning all the kids were awake and gathered together around the kitchen table, healthy and full of cheer. Gratitude.