She knew I was a writer.
I hadn’t spoken more than ten words to the lady.
We met while casually conversing late one afternoon Their sailboat docked next to us.
Talk went to Hurricane Florence. And how fortunate we’d been. Our marina had had max twenty-five knot winds and a few sprinkles. In fact, the best weather we’d had all summer.
I’d followed the hurricane. The final storm devastating the Carolinas curved around Cape Charles and Virginia like a kidney. Creating a protective cocoon.
Then she said something that stuck.
“I looked at that storm,” she said. “And I got right on top of it.”
“And I blew and blew and blew. Getting it away from here. And I wished I could get hold of everyone else and tell them to blow as well.”
What manner of witch was she?
I laughed and told her she should’ve blown the darn thing out to sea.
But what if there was something more in what she’d said. What powers did she have in her belief system that I lacked?
I couldn’t let go of the image.
LIFE’S HURRICANES CAN BE OVERWHELMING.
I’VE BEEN THROUGH A FEW MYSELF.
And even after it has passed through, there’s the aftermath to deal with.
Your power lines of strength are down.
Your river of tears has overflowed.
The road you were on has been destroyed.
What is most valuable to you in the world has been ripped away.
Recovery will take weeks, months, even years.
But, as with Nature’s Hurricanes, there will be help.
Never be afraid to reach out. Never be afraid to ask for help. People are kinder than you think.
As for me?
I find help on my knees.
Cyber Hugs and Blessings All. May your hurricanes be few and far between.
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