It Was a Dark And Stormy Night

By all accounts, my Hurricane Sandy experience was not an experience at all compared to others' experiences. To think what it might have been like to lose power, and then in the waning daylight hours, find the ocean bursting through your windows and doors and turning your pool table into a battering ram that smashes your walls and opens holes in that shouldn't be and ultimately leaves your house in smithereens.

But every experience is personal, and fear is a very personal thing. My night, for me, was harrowing.

I am never in a good place when it is stormy outside and I am in my bed attempting to sleep. I can get myself to a place of relative calm if, for instance, Scott is next to me, but on my own I am a basketcase hiding under the covers. But big, protective Scott, who not only doesn't fear a storm, actually relishes watching a storm's power. He's often disappointed when my neighborhood gets a doozy and his neighborhood gets a drizzle.

And tonight was the Fear Factor on steriods. 

I am sleeping on a makeshift bed in the center hall of my house to reduce any chance of being bludgeoned or impaled by debris that may come flying through my windows at any minute.

I have ancient 4 and 5 story trees surrounding my house that could smoosh it to the ground a la Monty Python's famous graphics.

I am going to lose power any minute and will have to try to get to my neighbor's  generator in the storm, in the dark and in a hurry. Again with a chance of getting bludgeoned or impaled by debris as I do so.

And the cats. Gidget is not at all happy to be in the crate, and Trinket is a crazed huntress who keeps sneaking into my "interior room" on her little cat feet to hiss and growl like a wild animal.  She will even walk on my reclining body to sneak up on the poor little thing.

In short, I am not sleeping.

And by not sleeping, I am forced to listen to the violence of the storm and angst about what heinous things will befall me as soon as sleep finds me. I check the clock on my phone incessantly. I also check Facebook. It has become eerily quiet.

In the wee hours I have a little talk with myself. If I can just get to sleep, I will wake in a few hours and it will all be said and done. The worst will have happened, whatever that is.  I put one finger through the grate on Gidget's crate. I tighten the blankets around me. I close my eyes and will myself to find a peaceful happy place to dream of while I nod off.

And in seconds I feel Trinket again. She is walking across me, pressing her body and the covers against my side on her way to hiss at The Gidge.

I reach down to push her away. She is not there.

I open my eyes to see where she has stalked off to and realize she is not anywhere in the room.

As I lay my head down again to resume my pursuit of peace and calm...I realize what has just happened.

Once again, my Dad has shown himself to me. Tucking me in when I needed his comfort. Just as he had before.

Sleep did eventually find me. I awoke early to find a light rain and heavy cloud cover remained but that the worst of the storm had passed. My night light was still on; I'd never lost power. A quick text to Scott to see that they were okay and I was off to inspect the house and my property. Trees still upright, basement still dry. 

And I know why.  Because my dear father was with me through it all. I was alone, but he would not let me be. And that is why I believe in angels.