Suddenly Out of Water

water

morning

I woke up just before daybreak and discovered we have no water. This is never a good thing, but it's particularly worrisome in light of the fact that when last checked on Saturday the tanks had been full, which means that several thousand gallons of water have mysteriously gone missing in the course of twenty-four hours. Sounds like a pretty abrupt release of liquid.

Naturally this has happened while eight adults are staying on the parcel, which adds to the inconvenience of it all, and it is the very morning we are taking our daughter and her boyfriend into town to board the airport bus.

Monte went out early to walk along the water lines trying to ascertain any evidence of leaking, or perhaps to discover a brand new pond in the parched earth.  He returned with no clues, only a story of being followed by a pair of eyes reflected in his head lamp beam, which turned out to belong to a large cat in a tree by the garage...whether lion or bobcat, we're not sure, but we had heard a distinct feline scream in the night.

We have been caught stupidly unprepared, with no extra water on hand. Serves us right for taking things for granted; it's a lesson we apparently need to learn and relearn. Monte's cousin dashed out to her car in her bright green holiday pajamas and returned with two bottles of Evian water, and we're sitting here having coffee while rectangles of morning light align themselves on the wall.

And so we're rubbing our eyes and talking about valves and drought and infrastructure, and when to get going, and what to do next. I guess I wasn't going to like this day anyway. It's the good-bye part. The long-awaited fullness of our daughter being home, the festivity of holiday gatherings, the familiar intensity and presence, the shared wonder of being right here, together...and suddenly it's over.  We'll be leaving in a few minutes to drive to the station.

Hopefully we won't run out of gas.