The storm has spent its fury up the Eastern seaboard – in no place being quite as severe or catastrophic as the wall to wall coverage suggested. I’m old enough now to be more than glad that is true. Even this diminished storm brought down ancient limbs of stately trees, flooded low lying areas and caused the deaths of more than a dozen people. For those homes, friends and families – Irene will be as huge a storm as could be imagined.
Here, it served mostly to confine us to our home for a weekend. We watched the water lash at the side of the house and the winds whip the trees into dancing contortions. Who knew ancient oaks could bend so? But still, somehow, the dishes are done, the laundry is done, the leftovers are in the ‘fridge and another week awaits.
We gathered with our neighbors – our friends – as the skies cleared and our children spun like overwound tops, whirling like cross dervishes around the center of the house.
Tomorrow it all begins again: the week with its prosaic tasks, meetings and needs. We’ll spend maybe 15 minutes discussing the storm, shaking our heads, all agreeing we were glad it wasn’t so bad. Then we’ll move on to milestones and deliverables, and never look back.
Good night, Irene. Good night, Irene. I’ll see you in my dreams.
My Truant Pen 