The Storms of My Past
I love waking up before dawn. I make my coffee and crawl right back to bed. I have my journal, black out curtains, and cat all situated to quietly and slowly start my day.
Yesterday I woke up to a category one hurricane. I started out having power intermittently, so I got my coffee, and attempted to emulate my morning routine. The wind was howling and swirling around like crazy. I watched a huge oak tree uproot itself right outside my bedroom window, then no power. I have been through dozens of storms so the unpredictability of it all didn’t phase me. I am tough, so I started playing my favorite “survivor game” in my apartment. Food, candles, water, phone, devices, apps, mobile hot spots, but after a few hours, there is something really disconcerting about walking around a hot dark apartment, by myself, and it wanes on me.
I think about the simplicity of climate control, how it makes me feel safe but also miss having people around me during these stressful times. Then I started remembering all the characters in the storms of my past. We were there for each other, but no one was there for me this time or last time, or even the time before that. I started texting the usual suspects to help me troubleshoot my predicament.
Questions arise. How am I going to take out this window unit so I can have air flow? I will need air. Should I get a hotel and when should I start drinking? I start scrolling for hotels, I am not ready to spend a hot dark night left to my own devices. Then, just as I bravely and independently removed my window unit, the power returns. Next, the ex showed up to me, late as usual. I didn’t need him anymore and that felt pretty good.
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