Homework

In the Gulf of Mexico, a massive Category Five Hurricane rips across the water headed straight for Brownsville, Texas. Ninety foot swells precede the storm, with the tempest smashing and tossing everything in its wake. Insulted skies turn steel-grey, mocking the color of the rolling sea.

Meanwhile, a different type of storm brews in a modest house on the Texas Gulf Coast.

"Anika!" shouts Anika's mom up the stairs. "Have you finished your homework?"

Disturbed from an intense staring contest with one of her gerbils, Anika snaps, "I know! I'm working on it!"

Anika purses her lips and lowers her head, sandy blonde hair covering her face. Huffing, she angles her head to stare at the mirror hanging next to the door to her room. Wide hazel eyes stare back. Ten-year-old thoughts dance in those eyes, causing them to flash and spin.

Her mom's voice drifts back up the stairs, "Anika, you have to still do your homework!"

Anika cuts her eyes at the reflection in the mirror. Suddenly a shape flits into the doorway. An elfish figure bursts into the room, saying, "Anika, mommy is calling you."

"I know, Kylie!" shouts an exasperated Anika, as she stands and slams the door to her room.

The Calm

Outside, the sky is bright and still and strangely quiet. No sounds disturb the stillness. The animals sense danger in this uneasy quiet and dutifully prepare to hunker down in their nests and burrows in order to weather the incoming storm.

Inside the house, the family prepares as well. The children's mother refers to a list, "Flashlights? Check. Radio? Check. Batteries? Check."

The next line causes her to pause and pick at her ear. "Move kids downstairs? Kids? Where ARE the kids?"

"Anika," she calls out. "You still have to do your homework!"

"I know!" Anika barks down the stairs, as she rolls her eyes at her mother's insistence. She fights a sudden urge to run outside and join her friends who are celebrating the upcoming storm and the cancellation of school classes.

A certain level of providence and care and feeding goes into the growth of a child. Unfortunately, wild, winged urges feed off the love and care provided by parents, and try to burrow as deep as they can into the minds of children. Adult minds are too crowded with schedules and lists and worries to leave much room for the winged beasts.

Anika had reached the age that encouraged the most fertile and imaginative mindspace without the necessary distraction of adult practicality, so that the highest numbers of wild things rolled and played about inside her mind.

Anika's mother had just spent ten years growing and nurturing and training this beautiful young woman. Therefore, as Mom stares at the ceiling and hears the barked acknowledgement from upstairs, she swats at a lone flitting urge to go grab her child and play tag, and rolls her eyes at the unjust nature of the world.

The Storm

"Look you three," says the children's mother, "I need some help here. The storm has turned north and will be here tomorrow so I have a million things to do. And you need to help me. And you still need to do your homework, Anika."

Mother stares at her child directly. "The teacher has already said that this project deadline will not change due to the hurricane. You have known about it for two months and you haven't done anything."

"Yes, I have!" counters Anika. "You never believe me!"

Kylie, ever the curious seven-year-old watches this exchange closely, while a very determined Lindy chews on a potato chip and continues coloring on the kitchen table with a marker.

"Fine," says the mother, "what is your project about?"

"I am going to build a diorama on Benjamin Franklin."

"Ok. What do you know about Benjamin Franklin?"

"I know that he was an inventor and an author and he traveled all over the world."

"Great," says the mother. "Do you have any research to do on the internet?"

"Of course," says Anika.

"Then you had better do it now, because the last storm that came by, well, it knocked the power out for eight days," counsels Anika's mother.

Now, sometimes Mothers can be very clever. Which is very frustrating for spirited and independent children. So unwilling to acknowledge her Mother's cleverness, Anika mopes into the study to begin her project.

In fairness, the excitement and drama associated with preparing for the massive storm seems far more appealing to a young mind than studying about some old man who died two hundred years ago. The urges agree, constantly flitting about the young child's head, causing distraction.

Kylie, sensing that her Mom is collecting her thoughts, sneaks out of the kitchen and slips upstairs. A very focused Lindy continues her art, keeping most of it on the drawing paper.

Outside, the pressure drops as the approaching giant hurricane pushes the sky away.

The Hurricane Room

Under the stairs of the family household is a quaint little room, with crazy angles and spaces. It is a perfect space for storing the odds and ends that should stay hidden until needed. Brooms and buckets and stepladders and paintbrushes and jars of nails line the shelves and the floor. It is in this room that Mom now herds her children. The room has been outfitted with a twin mattress and flashlights and blankets. It is in the very center of the house, under a very sturdy set of stairs. Mom receives great comfort knowing her children will weather the storm here, in the heart of the house.

Lindy trails the group, dragging a large cardboard box that once housed the hurricane supplies that...