The hurricane hit Mass yesterday. Bill and I were in Portsmouth watching the Bruins, ordering the best wangs ever, and we couldn't stay in our seats. The light outside was so crazy. First it was blue with these awesome, puffy clouds. Then the skies were tinted hot, soft, pink. Then there was this golden light, like everything was sepia-tioned for twenty minutes or so. One of my bosses, Tharon, was driving home from Waltham when a radio announcer declared a state of emergency and cautioned all drivers to pull over and seek shelter. That's a nice thought, but how do you hide from or prepare for something like a freak tornado? I started thinking about the predictions Bill has been making about this hurricane season, hows it's going to be amazingly bad, and I know he's right. Mass shouldn't be getting this kind of weather and I don't think NH has seen a winter this harsh and cold before now.
I went running on the beach today and could't help but notice how close some of the houses are built to the water. A few have less than a 10 foot buffer of grass between themselves and the sea. Who's bright idea was that? What's going to happen to said houses if hurricane season is freakishly worse than usual? Putting masking tape on the windows, hiding in the basement, what is that going to do for the houses in such close proximity to a being like the Ocean. If you're looking to believe in something bigger than yourself, if you need an example of eternity, you don't have to look any further than the water. The Ocean is life. It is darkness. It is eternal in It's wisdom and It knows it. If you want to test the limits of its mercy and resolve, all you have to do is get too close or go too deep and it may be compelled to remind you just where you stand in the greater scheme of things.
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