Life as We Knew It (36 page)

"I'll help you bring in the bags," I said. It was incredibly important to me to do that, to be the one bringing in the food that was going to save us.

"Fair enough," he said. "But let me help."

He ended up carrying in 3 bags to my one, but it didn't matter. Then he gave Mom a piece of paper to sign saying there were 4 of us in need of food.

"We'll be back on Monday," he said. "I can't guarantee you'll get all twelve bags you're entitled to, but we should manage seven, three for this week and four for next. After that you can count on four bags a week, at least until you hear otherwise.

Mom was sobbing. Matt managed to shake Mr. Danworth's hand and thank him. Jon was too busy poring through the bags and holding things up for all of us to see.

"You take care," Mr. Danworth said. "The worst is over. You made it this far, you'll make it all the way."

"Can we have supper tonight?" Jon asked after Mr. Danworth left. "Please, Mom. Just this once?"

Mom wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and smiled. "Tonight we eat," she said. "And tomorrow and Sunday we'll eat."

We had sardines and mushrooms and rice for supper. For dessert (dessert!) we had dried fruit.

The electricity came on for the second time today while we were eating.

This may be a fool's paradise, but it's paradise nonetheless.

March 18

The electricity came on while we were feasting on chickpeas, lentils, and carrots.

"Come on," Mom said. "Let's try a laundry."

And we did. It was kind of a challenge because we don't have running water, so we had to pour water into the machine for the wash and rinse cycles. But even so it was still much easier than doing it by hand. We washed all our sheets and the electricity stayed on for most of the clothes-dryer time.

We celebrated by washing our hair. We took turns shampooing everyone else. Mom's insisted we sponge bathe daily, but shampoos are a real treat.

Then tonight the electricity came back on. Only for 10 minutes or so, but we didn't care. We made supper in the microwave.

March 19

Supper in the microwave. The most beautiful words I've ever written.

We still have three bags of food in the pantry, but I can tell Mom's nervous about tomorrow. It's like the electricity. It comes and goes but you can't count on it.

Still, even if the food's that way, we can make sure Jon's strong and well fed and that will give Mom peace.

March 20

My birthday.

I'm 17 and I'm alive and we have food.

Mr. Danworth himself showed up this morning with 10 bags of food.

"We know you're owed more, but this'll have to do," he said. "See you next Monday with your regular four bags."

There was so much and it was all so wonderful. Powdered milk. Cranberry juice. Three cans of tuna fish.

Well, I could write it all down, but it doesn't matter. It was food and it will get us through for weeks and there'll be more food to come.

Because it was my birthday, Mom let me decide what we were going to have. I found a box of macaroni and cheese. It was as close to pizza as I could get.

There's still so much we don't know. We can only hope Dad and Lisa and baby Rachel are alive. Grandma, too. Sammi and Dan and all the other people we knew who left here. The flu was all over the U.S., probably all over the world. We were lucky to survive that; most people weren't.

The electricity comes and goes, so we don't know when we'll be able to depend on it. We have firewood for a while yet, and Matt is getting stronger (he walked up 10 stairs today and only Mom's insistence kept him from climbing them all). There's plenty of snow outside, so we're okay for water. The sky is still gray, though, and even though the temperature's been above zero for a week now, 20 degrees still feels balmy.

But today isn't a day to worry about the future. Whatever will happen will happen. Today is a day to celebrate. Tomorrow there will be more daylight than night. Tomorrow I'll wake up and find my mother and my brothers by my side. All still alive. All still loving me.

A while ago Jonny asked me why I was still keeping a journal, who I was writing it for. I've asked myself that a lot, especially in the really bad times.

Sometimes I've thought I'm keeping it for people 200 years from now, so they can see what our lives were like.

Sometimes I've thought I'm keeping it for that day when people no longer exist but butterflies can read.

But today, when I am 17 and warm and well fed, I'm keeping this journal for myself so I can always remember life as we knew it, life as we know it, for a time when I am no longer in the sunroom.