Cold storm, warm heart

So last week I went away for some R&R. No TV; no computer; no radio... just a beautiful cove, lots of birds, my dog, a book, and my sweetie. Weather was in the upper 60s, sunny, and beautiful when we left, and maybe 40s at night. It shifted the day we arrived at our lakefront getaway, clouding up and dropping into the 40s during the day; 20s at night. It started to rain and rain and rain. The heater in the place wasn't working. And the wood box for the stove was empty. Someone called to tell us we were under a tornado warning and to be careful. As we huddled in bed that night under every blanket we could find in the place, a storm raged outside. Not just ANY storm, but a wild-wind, hard-rain, tree-shaking, branch-breaking, thunder-booming, lightening-flashing bona fide tornado storm. I kept reminding myself that the place could take 120-mile-an-hour winds, or so the owner said. "Certainly this tornado is not packing 120-mile-an-hour winds" I thought; and I let that thought cycle in my brain like a prayerful mantra: "120-mile-an-hour winds. 120-mile-an-hour winds. 120-mile-an-hour winds." The place whistled, creaked, and shook in the wind, and I cringed and shuddered under the covers of our second-story nest. I wondered out loud what the birds did in a storm like that: "How do they keep warm and dry?" I asked, "Or how do they take the cold and rain?" My sweetie didn't know. I felt fortunate to have a roof over our heads - at least for the moment - keeping us dry. I thought if the roof did blow off, I might better understand how the birds feel. I got up a couple of times to pace off some nervous energy and check the flashlights; they didn't work. I went back to bed where it was warm...er.

Funny, I wasn't afraid to die that night. But I was afraid for my sweetie and my dog. I didn't want them to suffer or hurt. And I didn't want to see it. I laid there in bed wondering how that might feel... to see them suffering, hurt, cold, wet, dying. Or maybe I'd be dying. I wondered, "How would it feel? How would it feel for that to be the last thing I saw before I die?" And I didn't know.

But what I did know was that at that moment, my dog was safely, soundly sleeping and my sweetie was laying next to me in the comfy, dry bed like a warm bathrobe wrapped around my body. And so, I closed my eyes and melted into that. When I woke up, the sun was out, the trees were still, and my heart was warm. I felt my lips curve into a big, silent smile, and I thought, "Well. That was fun..."


©2010 Cecilia L. Zúñiga. A Year To Live. All Rights Reserved. Reprints, copies or reproductions of any kind must be accompanied by copyright credit line.