Wind Storm

I drove through the rain to the gym where I walked in the indoor pool. It was lovely to move through the warm water as I heard the rain beating down outside. Afterwards, I sat in the jacuzzi, feeling peaceful and at one with the world. I had a massage and that was good except my masseuse was upset about the Japanese earthquake, tsunami, nuclear meltdown and blizzards. She spent the first ten minutes of the massage talking about the disasters. That was OK. It's on everybody's mind. We ended up offering a prayer together for the poor people in Japan. Giving me the massage calmed her down, but I felt guilty, thinking I should fly over to Japan and give massages to members of the traumatized population there (as well as food, water, warm clothes and blankets) instead of selfishly receiving a massage here.

I drove home through a deluge of water, plowing through the deep puddles that flooded the pot-holed road. It was miserably cold, too. I tried to maintain my friendly relationship with the rain, but it was coming down so hard that once home, I didn't want to venture out again. Then her ugly sister, the wind, took over. We could hear her crashing around the house in a tantrum, maliciously hurling splats of water at the windows with her fists. All night long she raged, tossing the trees about and banging against the windows, doors, and roof of our poor little house until it shuddered and creaked. Odd things started to happen, like the mirror came crashing down in the bathroom.

"Did you drop something?" Bob asked me through the bedroom door.

"No, I thought it was you."

I knew the house wasn't going to come down or the door blow off its hinges or the redwood tree in our back yard split in two and cave in our roof because it never has before. Therefore, it never will, right?