In the Eye of it All
There’s something about a storm.
Cosied beneath a blanket, windows rattling. Double glazing can’t keep out the chill; it sweeps what skin is exposed, a gentle touch of warning, rippling from nose to cheek. What could be if I were to flee my fortress, what could be swept into Mother Nature’s arms.
The rain does not start with a drizzle. Like buckets sloshing, it throws itself my way, slap after slap upon the window pane. There is no light. The power could not withstand, and so, under darkness, I lay and wait. It is peaceful.
I am content, for I know it will pass. I am not obliged to fight forward — insignificant, a mere being caught amidst the wrath of the world. There is nothing I can do, and so blissfully, I do nothing.
Storm Arwen has been causing quite the scene in the UK. I am lucky enough to live in an area that doesn’t see much devastation by nature, though I know there have been a few casualties. The power went out last night. I sat with my boyfriend, a torch between us, and we listened to the wind howl from our bed. It was cold, at times it was frightening, so we kept each other busy by sharing jokes and stories. He drifted to sleep before I did, so I started to write — something I hadn’t done for about a week. In a way, I’m grateful I had the extra time on my hands, unpressured, to sit and let my mind play around with words. My laptop battery died, and I fell asleep too, lulled by the pattering of rain.
I’m grateful that I don’t have to worry about my loved ones when something on this scale happens. I’m grateful that I live in a fairly ordinary town, where nothing ever happens. It’s something I often take for granted — something I often complain about, but situations such as these can be humbling.
Thank you for reading.
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