Year Four from 12/28/1985 to 12/28/1986
Lightning Strikes
I thought I finished my adventures, not quite. A particularly memorable camping trip occurred when Meghan was 1 ½ years. She was already a seasoned camper, since we sought Yosemite every school break. On this late August afternoon, we pitched our tent in Tuolumne Meadows . She toddled around the campsite, sticks and rocks in both hands, calling after the deer, “Dog, dog, dog.” She was one with surrounding dirt and mud.
As often happens in the Sierra, thunder showers roll in quickly and behave violently. Clouds billowed from all directions, as we watched the sky go from near cloudless to a scattering of pretty, puffy white clouds to large, menacing, ominous ones to completely dark in less than 30 minutes. We grabbed Meghan and darted into the tent just as the rain started. The thunder got louder, near deafening, and closer to the flashes. At first I counted, “one, one thousand, two, one thousand…” The next flash, I could not count even “one.” In one terrific flash and simultaneous thunder, my fingers tingled, the welts on my blue jeans got hot—even burning my skin, my hair stood on end. I thought certain this was our end—electrocution. I whimpered, holding Meghan tight. Dale sat across from me experiencing the tingling fingers, hot welts, hair on end, but he had been in thunderstorms before like this. I continued to hold Meghan in my arms, trying to nurse her throughout (whatever was I thinking), while we sat on insulate pads and sleeping bags. As quickly as the thunderstorm arrived, it passed, and I felt foolish for freaking out. We climbed out to find how horrifically close we were to the strikes.
Lightning had hit all around us. Lightning hit our campsite. It struck our picnic table, bounced along the rivets to the anchor chain, kicking up dirt where it finally grounded. Lightning struck the camper van next to us, blowing off all four of its hub caps. Lightning smacked the clothes line strung between trees, not more than 10 feet away from us, traveled down the synthetic rope, and burned holes in anything that contacted the metal on the clothes pins. Lightning blew off the “bear box” on the tree across from us. And from the same downpour, in which our tent sat smack in the middle of a brand new creek, most likely a great conduit of the lightning strikes, the insulate pads saved us. That same lightning storm killed several people who took shelter in the restrooms. We were the fortunate.
This same year, Nana Eva joined our family when I returned to work. She needed us as much as we needed her. She was the most popular nanny in the Mommy and Me class and many Moms wanted her, but we were the lucky ones. It was a year with mixed blessings and trauma, as a car accident totaled the Honda Accord, but “earned us” money enough for a new Volvo. I miscarried a tough twin pregnancy in June, a few days before my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary. I counted my blessings. We were alive. We had Meghan.
Love is Complicated 