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.

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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