So I’m hanging out the window, one hand gripping the window frame, the other grasping tightly to the edge of our only air conditioning unit – the one that just fell out the window.  Rivers of sweat pour down my face, dripping from my chin and evaporating in the sticky hot velvet air.

A guest at our family shelter offers assistance: “Give me your hand.”  Like Indiana Jones reaching for the Holy Grail in the final scenes of “The Last Crusade”, I consider my choice: air conditioning in the 100+ degree weather, or the safety of the of the second story bedroom floor in the Guesthouse.  Luckily I am no Indiana Jones, and my feet are firmly planted on the roof of the front porch.

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