Rising Tide on Plum Island
What if we can’t free him? Do we all drown in this God-forsaken place? My God, must we cut off Allan’s leg to save his life? With what? Where is everybody? In church, of course. What in God’s name am I going to do?
“He’s not budging,” Billy said, as I cursed our beloved Plum Island from deep in my soul.
“OK, kids, let’s all push together and try to loosen this rock.”
Attempting to move a huge block of granite would be a vain endeavor but I had to say something while hoping against hope for an inspired solution.
“We need a tank.”
Of course we do, dear little Gary! But we can’t stand here and do nothing. This can’t be happening to this precious family…I love you so much, Allan. You mustn’t leave us. You mustn’t! What am I going to do, dear God, what am I going to do?
The wind grew stronger. White caps formed on the horizon. In those frantic moments when my son’s life seemed to be inexorably slipping away, I glanced down the beach for a sign of life but there was neither a sound nor faint outline of a human being in the heavy mist. Lost in my own fog, I barely heard Lawrence say, “Mommy, we don’t need a tank. Why don’t we take off his shoe?”
I immediately came back to my senses.
“Great idea, Lawrence. Come on, let’s get to it, guys.”
I gathered the troops for a concentrated surge of energy and determination. I had to get their adrenaline flowing if I were to save my son’s life.