This whole summer has been an emotional storm, and now at the peak, a real hurricane decides to blow through.
This post is my 500th and I laugh at the irony. I started writing Middle Passages as a result of the tornado of upset that blew in when corporate restructuring yanked my job out from under me over two years ago. Post 500 occurs after another figurative cyclone, one which happened to coincide with the arrival of the real thing.
We did the college drop off on Friday, amid dire warnings of a devastating weather event predicted for Sunday, making the two hour trip early enough to for our girl to score the lowest of three beds in a forced triple dorm room. We eyeballed the thick brick walls on the second level of the eight-floor building, and, amid repeated warnings to stay inside during the storm, said our goodbyes. Then my husband and I rushed home to prepare the sailboat, pull the dinghy, and move all the outdoor paraphernalia indoors, before Irene and her 90 mile expanse of wind and rain blasted through.
Perhaps the powers-that-be were looking after me this weekend. Our sweet girl has gone to college and a pending hurricane is about the only thing that could distract me from the void in our home. Somewhere, next week, perhaps on a calm and beautiful Wednesday when I get home to a still house, the reality of the term “empty nest” will hit.
And that topic my friends, may be good for another 500 posts.
As I write this, the winds have died down, the power is back on, and no major damage occurred around us. Hope all who felt the effects of Irene are well and safe.
