Fay

A tropical storm blows in from the south, drowning the streets and pausing my renegade spiral. I run along the river just before it appears, a cool breeze in the air and ominous clouds on the horizon, but my legs carry me further down the island than they have in weeks and I am grateful for the lightness in my step. How we are all just one good moment from relief. A few jobs trickle in, a short instant of catching my breath, and it is plenty. I go to sit in a neighbor's empty kitchen to work, try to let the words settle around me, watch the storm as it catches its breath. Sometimes when the voices around me quiet there is nothing else there. Perhaps the eye of the hurricane is a gift and we forget. Perhaps peace in the midst of a storm is as good as it gets.

Take a deep breath now.

Get while the getting's good.