the storm

the next day left us with the evidence of the storm, the kind of destruction so unbelievable, so widespread, so complete that it was amazing each time it was viewed: whole huge trees uprooted from the earth, limbs and trunks of trees fallen to the ground, huge branches lying across things like cars and sidewalks, stories after stories of nearly missed falling branches, power outages, and the where we were when it happened.

and little things too, like leaves splattered to the ground so hard it seems they've become part of the cement, soggy twigs scattered everywhere, garbages filled to the brim with leaves jutting out of them, reminders everywhere that nature can still wreak havoc and who it hurt most that time was trees, so many trees.

in the middle of it all, where was I when it happened when hurricane caliber winds were sweeping through the city, when driving rains soaked the city and flooded train stations and sewers all at once? I was on my way to him, ignoring any signs of danger (huge bolts of lightning that made my umbrella fearsome) and all the while wondering how long it would take to be in his arms and recover from our own stormy morning.