After the storm.

After the storm, the dark clouds leave, the dust is all gone, the trees take a sigh of relief. The windy times are through, and it is time for a better day.

Apparently.

But, have you really observed what you can see after a storm? While the storm stops, it takes a while to get the systems running back into place. The pots are lying distressed on the floor, the terrace is dusty and rough, the drying clothes have fallen away here and there. The leaves are scattered. Nothing is quite in its place.

Everything is in transition.

What happens during this transition? Well, everything thrives. This is the peak, like a day after the night, like the first day of summer after cold winters, this is the time the trees start to make themselves stronger, the birds take safe but longer strides, they take risks, fearing to prepare for the next storm. The lingering fear shall always exist during this time — it becomes the driving force to grow, and learn.

In a few days or so, systems are back into place, and functioning in a presumably normal fashion. What happens then? That’s when they start building shields around them to protect from the storm. The storm might hit again, it may be similar or different, but the preparation for what is known starts. The protective layers begin to form. The bandages that were in place, are still held on to, the wound has healed, but the bandages are still hung on tight.

There’s fear for the next storm. There’s fear for the next cyclone to again take over. It starts off only as a breeze of air that tantalizes the band aid, just a bit. Harmless, it may seem, but nevertheless, there’s the fear, so there’s protection.

You never know when the next storm arrives, and how it will shatter what they have been protecting so much. The band-aid, yet needs to go, and it pains to rip them off, but it is meant to come out, and let the healed skin experience the atmosphere around.