Holiday Holiday

Al Roker and Jim Cantore would have fought each other to cover the storm that descended upon Muffinville on June 22, 2013. The weather originally called for clear skies, but a fast approaching front turned the calm day into the prelude for the world's worst storm. The skies darkened and appeared to create an early summer squall...nothing more than a passing thunderstorm. I was confident that the storm would end just as quickly as it developed, but I was sorely mistaken.  The storm seemed to last for days. Each morning, I headed for shelter, but the winds continued to pick up.  The rain, already dumping record amounts, showed no signs of letting up. The basement flooded as water continued to rise from a little hole in the Earth. I maintained a 'glass half full' mentality while the wicked wind beat my body. Nearly thrown face down into a puddle I held on to a sapling, practically folded in half, trying to sustain its upright position after days of being thrashed westwardly. The rain eventually stopped, the winds died and the water receded. Today, cloudy skies over head.  A few cold drops of rain fell from above, cutting through the thickness in the air, to rest on my warm skin. I watched a sand crab meticulously dig his hole, close to the shore line.  He moved with such precision, stopping every now and again as if to tease me with his next move. 

I haven't paid any mind to the weather, my flooded basement or the damaged trees. Suddenly, they don't matter anymore.