After Irma
It's amazing how much energy a person expends preparing for a hurricane: stocking up on water and canned/already cooked goods which means long lines in a grocery store, and perhaps hunting for that last container of water that everyone missed; waiting in line at the gas station to fill the tank in case you have to evacuate or to make sure there is plenty of gas in the car after the storm so you can get to work and to avoid the inevitable major hike in gas prices; boarding up the windows so you still have windows after the hurricane has bellowed through your area; removing everything in your yard that can become a missile (like potted plants and outdoor furniture) and finding a hopefully safe place for all these things; making sure your pets have plenty of food and water (and litter, in the case of cats); developing a plan in case of evacuation (where to go, what to bring); buying plenty of flashlight batteries, candles, and a battery-operated radio to use should the power go out; and then, while you're hunkered down, the waiting, and waiting, and waiting, watching the news to keep up with the ever-changing path of the hurricane -- Is it coming here?
And then when it's all over, if you have survived it without any damage to your house, car or property, if your trees are still standing, you put back everything the way it was before the hurricane threat, bit by bit, clean up the fallen dead branches and haul them out to the curb to be picked up by the trash hauler, take down the boards on the windows, and then you sit but you can't relax because the adrenaline is still pulsating through the muscles and arteries of your body, you still feel the scratching of the storm threat on every inch of your skin, and you know that there are people out there who are really hurting physically and emotionally, some may have died, and you are alive and unharmed, the roof is still on your house, the power is back on so you can read, watch TV, stay cool in the A/C, and cook a nice meal, your pets are back to their normal selves, and you can walk around the rooms in your house without fear that something big and fast will come crashing through the windows (maybe the boards won't hold), and now you can breathe.
But then you realize how bone tired you are, how it takes a great deal of effort to go back to work and to life as it was, how something inside you is still rattled. You take step after step like everything is all right, but it feels false and people talk and you can't really hear them because some part of you was taken away by the savage spirit of Irma, and all you want to do is hide in a mountain cabin with your pets and a good friend or two, and breathe in a sweet, fresh air that never knew the wrath of a hurricane.
And then when it's all over, if you have survived it without any damage to your house, car or property, if your trees are still standing, you put back everything the way it was before the hurricane threat, bit by bit, clean up the fallen dead branches and haul them out to the curb to be picked up by the trash hauler, take down the boards on the windows, and then you sit but you can't relax because the adrenaline is still pulsating through the muscles and arteries of your body, you still feel the scratching of the storm threat on every inch of your skin, and you know that there are people out there who are really hurting physically and emotionally, some may have died, and you are alive and unharmed, the roof is still on your house, the power is back on so you can read, watch TV, stay cool in the A/C, and cook a nice meal, your pets are back to their normal selves, and you can walk around the rooms in your house without fear that something big and fast will come crashing through the windows (maybe the boards won't hold), and now you can breathe.
But then you realize how bone tired you are, how it takes a great deal of effort to go back to work and to life as it was, how something inside you is still rattled. You take step after step like everything is all right, but it feels false and people talk and you can't really hear them because some part of you was taken away by the savage spirit of Irma, and all you want to do is hide in a mountain cabin with your pets and a good friend or two, and breathe in a sweet, fresh air that never knew the wrath of a hurricane.
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