Routine?

Typhoon down south. Which means rainy days and no swimming pools, but that didn't stop the assistance center from filling up in the mornings. 

I'm thankful that Kochi, my rugged home prefecture, is the one getting pounded by this typhoon. They're much better prepared to take it than the Northeast, even without the damaged buildings. The wind is still a bit stiff here, but not too bad. 

Odd when the hustle-bustle of relief goods distribution becomes normal. Doesn't everyone have stacks of diapers to fit everyone from newborns to Grandpa, and boxes of clothes and shoes? Doesn't every wish list routinely include water, rice, tissues, and toilet paper? (Please Papa, move someone to send us more.) Isn't everyone excited to get some soft food for Grandma? Aren't dark blue Crocs (boxes and boxes of dark blue Crocs) the must-have item to make feet comfy for the summer?

Don't you listen to a retired deep-sea fisherman from the Bering Sea tell about his harrowing escape from the quake and tsunami, and about another narrow escape on the high seas? How he finally retired and settled down, how his house isn't all that bad (ignore his address--it's in one of the hardest-hit communities around), and how he's lonely because his kids and grandkids moved away because of the radiation? Don't you sit in silence after he tells of family friends who were washed away?

And don't you immediately follow that up with blowing bubbles with a toddler and watch her learn how to blow them herself? And hold a baby boy until he notices his mommy is out of sight and he starts squalling?

Don't you routinely scan the room for who's being quiet, and go sit by them and coax a conversation from its hiding place? 

Thanks for tapping me on the shoulder and checking whether I'm OK. I missed a couple of days there because nothing was happeni... 

Oh. Yeah. This isn't normal. How did I allow it to become routine?