As I watch the snow fall, I keep reminding myself that had I given Rob some food, he’d be back for more, again and again, but I’m still feeling bad.  My mind keeps going back: could I have done something different before? During? After?  Well, of course I could have.  I’ve read Jim’s book on security, and I knew the sliding glass door is my biggest vulnerable point.  I could have boarded it up; I may still do that, especially now.  I’ll have to talk to Jason about that.  I could have given Hapson some food, but that would only have delayed the inevitable, and would have put me at further risk, from whomever else he might have told. I will just have to live with his death on my hands.

I was too shook up from yesterday’s events to go into town to church, so I used the time for personal things.  I started up the generator and took a long, hot shower, washing my hair; it cleaned my body, but not my soul.  Then I did a load of laundry to hang on the wooden clothes rack to dry by the stove.  While the washer was going, I turned on the TV to see if the satellite networks were still functioning.  I wasn’t prepared for what came on.

In the early hours of the morning another quake hit the New Madrid Fault.  Another big one: an 8.1, at the same location as the last.  The portion of the tectonic plate that was lifted and created the new lake in Missouri, was ripped in half, sending an avalanche of water down the now dry Mississippi River.  A wall, nearly fifty feet high and traveling at an incredible speed washed away anything and everything in its path.  This time there were very few deaths, considering, but the exposed and vulnerable bridges were completely washed away. Will we ever recover from this latest catastrophe? How much stress can the human psyche take before it crumbles? I’m numb.  How much disaster can the human mind deal with, and still function?