Many people that move to the mountains do so to get away from the rat race and to get closer with nature. Generally speaking, mountain people resent their computers and try not to get sucked into that social networking black hole. “I don’t Facebook,” they say proudly to me as they go off on a rant about how impersonal it is to meet people online and how text messaging is ruining our children. If I dare to ask them if they Twitter I see a bubble pop up above their brain and inside is a girl with wild hair in a straight jacket. I expect them to call Social Networking Anonymous and check me in for addiction, “I don’t “get” Tweeting or Twittering or whatever you call it. I’M not interested in hearing about somebody’s zit that they couldn’t pop.” Sometimes I try to explain the value of Twitter and social networking in general but mostly I pretend to relate and change the subject.
For this post, I thought that instead of giving you percentages on how many of you, my readers, have come from either Twitter or Facebook, I would post a beautiful story written by Darrelyn Saloom. Darrelyn is one of my online friends who I found on Twitter. She is a phenomenal writer who has many a time encouraged me to continue on with my writing, just when I was ready to abandon ship. Darrelyn writes often about her home in Louisiana and she also often guest writes for Jane Friedman’s website for Writer’s Digest, There are NO RULES.
Back in September, Jane posted one of Darrelyn’s pieces that so beautifully tapped into the relationship between a mother and a son that it brought me to tears, and so I asked for Darrelyn and Jane’s consent to post the piece on my website as well. And here it is:
Street Signs in Lafayette, Louisiana, after Hurricane Rita in 2005. All photos by Darrelyn’s oldest son, Christopher L. Frugé. For more photos visit his website, or follow him on Twitter.
An angry spine of thunderstorms blows onshore in a jagged, bowed line on the radar screen. It spins northwest and knocks out power in Grand Isle, Louisiana, and spawns a tornado that pokes out of a dark, gray cloud and then pops back inside like an unborn child reluctant to leave the womb.
I watch the local weather report as the squall line speeds closer to my home in Acadiana. I’m anxious even though I’ve seen this scenario dozens of times. When I finally hear rolling drumbeats of potential disaster, the storm dissipates. Only a gentle whoosh of rain sweeps across the roof of my house.
(Above: Storm Brewing in Cypremort Point, Louisiana)
Of course, I’m not always so lucky. I’ve stirred pots of red beans and rice by candlelight. I’ve witnessed sideways rain and gasped as a massive live oak disappeared from the view of my bedroom window. But I’ve only evacuated once. I packed up my family with leftovers of shot nerves after Katrina and Rita before Gustav arrived.
The only hurricane to come ashore this season swirls inside me. And it’s because my youngest son is moving away. He hasn’t lived at home in years. But he’s been living nearby while attending the local university. Now he’s going to graduate school. I had hopes he’d choose Tulane. Instead, he’ll be carrying a passport, dropping off his cat, and moving to London.
I’ve never been to London. And the unfamiliarity bothers me. So I fly over the city on Google Earth. I find the building where he’ll be staying. I even map out his route to the university and back. Hyde Park is nearby. Trafalgar Square and The National Gallery are within walking distance. It looks lovely from space.
As his departure date nears, a low pressure of heaviness grows in every cell of my body. It expands with each passing day. My cloud tops are exceeding 50,000 feet. But the tornado I am spawning is anything but reluctant. The young twister is an ecstatic whirl of energy. More importantly, the funnel cloud is ready to break away.
The reason I’m able to drag myself from bed every morning is the memory of excitement on my son’s face the day he booked his flight. No matter how much you love your mother—to be free of her meddling invigorates body and soul. I remember the feeling. It’s liberating and necessary and part of the plan. I don’t have to like it. But I need to let go.
I have no idea what will happen once he is gone. I wonder if the levees will break, if the streets of my psyche will be littered with debris.
Perhaps the storm will dissipate and pass in a gentle sweep. So far the Gulf of Mexico has been fairly calm. No evacuations have been issued, no tornado warnings.
And yet—it’s been a turbulent hurricane season.
(Pictured above: Grand Isle, Louisiana Sunset)
Thank you Darrelyn and Jane….thank you!
Thank you for this lovely post – Darrelyn is one of my favorite writer-people and one of the best things happening on the web today, imho!
Julie, anyone who enjoys Darrelyn’s writing is a friend of mine!
Darrelyn is my fave too! I love this post. Darrelyn is an awesome example of why twitter is fun, helpful & worth your time. Thanks!
“loved this piece and is a BIG FAN of Darrelyn’s as well. But I’m not a writer and I’m not sure I just used proper english… fan of Darrelyn, or fan of Darrelyn’s?”
well-deserved, Darrelyn!!
Nice……….very nice!
How cool! Congrats, Darrelyn!
Love!
Top class work as always Darrelyn, you deserve the title accolade. Feel proud and “Quit being so damn humble!” as you’re always telling me!
Hi Jillian! OMG how I relate to this story! Sending my son off to war was a nightmare, but I can truly relate to the agony of having to let go. On some level, it just isn’t possible! You can busy yourself with your life, distract yourself all you want to – there is still that ache, that unseen umbilical cord that ties your soul to his forever. Makes me tear up just thinking about it and its been YEARS. If ever there is a curse to motherhood, this has to be it! And you know I am not a negative person.
Great writing – yes – but never discount your OWN talent, Jilly! You have written some awesome posts yourself!!!
hugs
suZen
.-= suzen´s last blog ..October is NON-GMO Month – Join In! =-.
So true in the first paragraph around mountain town social media use. Then when they do join they are bewildered when they don’t get an audience like travis pastrana.
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