I wasn’t going to write about this. That night a friend sighed, “There’s going to be a lot of pictures of trees on Facebook tomorrow,” and he was correct.
But this was really an exceptional storm. I am so glad my car was not crushed as those of some of my nearby neighbors were. I lost a lot of groceries in the fridge and the security alarm went off for days, but I was unharmed.
During the outage I felt utter torpor. I didn’t want to do anything but lay on the couch. Was I unplugged and off-line like my lights and computer were? Is that what it’s like to live in some unlit village in the tropics, where the shack-dwellers’ heartbeats sink and slow with the setting sun?
The best part about the storm was the calm that followed. Being with friends with flashlights and having nothing to do but explore brings out those boyish instincts to hike and climb and pry. There was even a cemetery with the side gate half-open, just asking us to enter and look around. We were attracted to the biggest, highest statue in the graveyard and the saddest-looking ones.
This one looked sadder still because of the soaking wet and the almost-full moon that night:
pseudoisaac 