Waiting

When I was younger, like 15, I got sick at school. I was too young to have my own car there and too far from home to walk, so I had to call my mom to come get me. But she wasn't home. I racked my brain, and called our family emergency contact person. After all, that's what they're for, right?

She came and got me, drove me home, and made sure I was safe inside.

But what does that have to do with living in Alaska, you may ask? Today we are experiencing a white-out.  It's not as bad as the one we had that caused us to cancel school, but it is bad enough that one cannot see 50  yards out.

The preschool has to sign their kids out to parents every day, but today, because of this storm, every kid in the elementary side had to have a parent come get them. They all called home, and parent poured in by the truckload. Okay, so we don't actually have enough parents to "pour" them, and there aren't really any trucks on the island besides the ones owned by the school and store. But you get my drift.

Elementary school gets out at 3:30, and at 4:10, there were still two kids sitting in the office, waiting for a mom. I feel for them, I really do. That is a feeling of abandonment that I never want to live through again.

But that's exactly what's going on. A grandpa came to the preschool and picked up one of the kids, and an hour later, they still hadn't made it home.  The cop was called, and a search party was sent out. Now we sit and wait. And this is the part where we wait. And hope. And pray.

UPDATE: They're home!