Queensland Storms

The day begins with smiles in the humid sunshine. The air is static with electricity. I’m feeling tense with anticipation. What will the coming hours bring? I struggle to adjust to the humidity, that hot sticky uncomfortable feeling. Then the sky begins to change colour, a greenish grey no longer the bright glare of sunshine. I turn to see the dark clouds beginning to gather in the West. Now, I’m resigned, it is only a matter of how long until the storm hits. I don’t know how severe it will be or how much damage will be done. But the lightning, the thunder and the heavy rain are all inevitable.

I skirt around it for as long as I can handle. I brace for the impact, closing windows and doors as the rain starts to fall. The wind has whipped up out of nowhere. Now it’s hit, I can feel the brunt of it’s full force.

The house is not as strong as it used to be, it has weathered far too many of these powerful storms. The constant criticisms, the nagging, the judgement of my decisions. Now my needs/feelings are almost invisible to them. They push, they assume, they feel entitled to my support. The wind gusts through pushing squalls of rain against me. Finally the old window brackets give way and fling open, letting inside all the rain and debris. Water splashes across the floor, leaves scatter, the paperwork flies across the room.

I can withstand the torment and abuse no longer. I lash out with my tongue, then hastily withdraw to a quieter room. The wind follows me, and I feel it again. I need to run, run fast away from here.

If this storm gets any stronger I will fail, I will stumble, and fall. I may even crumble completely. My walls are shaking, I pack my precious belongings and attempt to flee, but I’m stopped at the gate. There’s a lull for a moment, a plea for connection to wait it out.

But I can feel it, I’m about to be sucked back into the swirling dervish of the storm. I will be bruised and battered. Who will come to my aid? Where can I go to seek refuge. Its clear I must run, I must leave now or I may not survive.

So I run, I run hard and fast, my breath, my story, my hurt pouring out of my mouth as I go further and further away. The wind follows, but the rain drops do not hit me anymore. The roads are wet and slippery, but I keep my focus, I tell my truth. I watch for the amber lights of warning, then proceed with caution, but with focus, I must let it all go, I must be true to myself and my heart.

Then I can see it, the warm glow of safety. I run up the hill, up the stairs, through the front door. I’m greeted with smiles, happy faces so purely joyful to see me, to see that again I have weathered the storm, that I have survived. Their warm embrace, so firm, so comforting envelopes me. I know that here I am safe, here I am loved, here I am accepted as me.