Salt spray covers me. Miniscule particles of water, each glistening and stinging slightly as they hit. I no longer belong to this earth, as it slowly disappears into fury. Pounding, pounding sand and rain into gritty stew around me. A seagull screams right into my ear as it whirls by, unable to stop or slow down. A large piece of driftwood lands heavily next to me and nestles down into the shifting sand. My eyes are almost closed in the tempest, as I attempt to see and keep out flying debris at the same time.
Seaweed rushes onto the shore in huge clumps. Waves become bigger and bigger. This is when I become afraid. In my mind, they have become mountainous and threatening.
Trying to tear me from the land and thrust me into the turbulent sea. Swirling waters with the strength of an avalanche.
I walk faster, bending into the wind in order to keep my foothold. Large pieces of roofing and plywood go sliding by on the road, like sleds with ghost drivers. No one in sight now. Not even a bird or crab or lizard. It seems the storm is concentrating, building up for a huge outburst. My heart trembles, for the world is about to explode. I hear windows breaking in my house. The closest shelter is an old broken down Buick that was abandoned in the yard. It seems solid and safe. I creep into the back seat, watchful for bugs and rodents. The windows do not roll all the way up, and rain pours in, in violent torrents. Somewhere in the distance there is a rumble louder than any I have ever heard. Like standing on the tracks behind a moving train.
The car is filling up with rain. Again, I see images of huge, dark waves coming ashore in my mind. Know they can not be outrun. Ultimately, the earth will become one with the sea. For the forces of nature are all powerful, unbending in their purpose. Suddenly, it seems as if this swirling, swimming sensation is all that there is or ever was. Once, I had seen a rain-swollen river overflow, taking everything in it’s path. Nothing and no one was able to resist the surging water as it plunged by. Those who escaped it’s path had taken to higher ground before the river flooded it’s banks. Here, by the sea, there is no higher ground. Only a long stretch of sand, twisted trees, and weather-beaten houses. Shorelines shift and waver with each storm, anchored in part by those gnarled oaks and pines. Ever changing, disappearing and reappearing like a fickle spirit. Perhaps meant to be swept clean once in a while.
Rain subsides, winds die down. There is quiet. I open the car door and rainwater pours into the yard. My house is still standing, so I run quickly through the door, which has blown open. The room is filled with sand. Broken glass glimmers like wet rhinestones upon the floor. Everything is wet. Outside, I can see that the house across the street has been reduced to rubble. Toasters and bedsheets hang from trees like strange ornaments. The stillness calms me, but cleverly hides my inner terror. For though the earth breathes easily now, this is only the eye of the hurricane.
