17Smoke Rises Before the FlamesThree days pass.
The rain pours, dark and unrelenting.
Morning phases fluidly to evening, like Maris phasing into the river. Like my mother’s lithe body vanishing into the breeze.
We sleep, we rise. We read, we sleep. We gain no ground.
The beach just beyond our little brown house becomes a swamp. The storm makes the roads impassable. The thrashing wind beckons the tide and sends a violent surf slicing high across the sand.
We’re trapped here, I realize. Dry and warm. Shackled together as we wait out the storm. Becoming restless. We tap our feet and drum our fingernails over our knees. We pace and pummel punching bags and barely eat.
The schedule drives me to madness. I am a hamster on a wheel. Round and round I go, pushing and racing, and ending each d
