the Storm

storm

Sometimes when I look back at my life, certain times strike me as profoundly significant. Time and distance allows for this perspective although the memory is seen through a flowing gossamer curtain.
So it is with life and ironically, so it is with the writing of it.

I’ve thought about one particular night with a curiosity that won’t allow me to let it go.
I wonder if the final writing of the words will somehow change my point of view.
Probably not.

It was many years ago, if I were to hazard a guess I’d say 40 years.
We were staying in a beach house on the shores of Cape Cod Bay.
Never having stayed right on the beach, I was fascinated by the sheer mystery of it.
It was a modest house, a glorified camp actually, adorned with more cliché knickknacks associated with the Cape than you could ever possibly dream about.
There were signature clam shell ashtrays on every table, barnacled frames on pictures and a sign in the bathroom that read: In the land of sun and fun, we never flush for number one!

A steady sea breeze crept its way through every open window subtly scenting the entire house with a moist brackish tinge.
I don’t remember much of the vacation itself but I vividly recall the night of the storm.
I was roused from a deep sleep by a thwack of thunder and a shimmer of light.
Jumping from my bed, I headed towards the screened-in front porch that looked out over the bay.
Sitting in the front window was my mother.
She loved storms and in her way taught me to love their awesome beauty.

She saw me standing in the doorway and motioned for me to sit.

After a few minutes she said, “It’s beautiful. Isn’t it?”
In the dark of the porch I could see she was smiling.

I said, “Yeah,” as I watched the wide expanse of the beach light up like someone was flipping a light switch.
There was a clap of thunder and the skies lit up as I saw a lone seagull flying underneath the bruised thunderheads; fearless, I thought.
It was only seconds later that I noticed a second gull appear out of nowhere.
We watched the storm in silence, my mom and I, trapped in our own thoughts.

I thought about my twin sister sleeping soundly a few rooms away and had an epiphany of sorts. The storm seemed an apt and epic metaphor to our birth and subsequent adoption.
I’ve never told her about the storm but I think she’ll understand where it is that I’m calling from.
Like the two gulls I saw nearly 40 years ago, my sister and I have since flown through many a storm.
It seems somewhat bittersweet that my mom was teaching me about life even then.
And I think I now have a better understanding as to why she so loved storms.
lym…

~m

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4 thoughts on “the Storm

  1. Just gorgeous Michael. Very symbolic and profound, you constantly amaze me with your ability to write…

    Kell-

    I'm a bit surprised more haven't commented on this one.
    Maybe they're just so stunned by my brilliance they've no idea what to say….yeah, right. 😉
    I do appreciate your thoughts.

    ~m 

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  2. I'm finding lately that commenters are completely unpredictable. The posts that I think will attract them don't, and the ones i'd consider bum fluff do! Oh well, just as well i'm blogging for myself and not the readers isn't it?
    You could have a point though, maybe you stunned people into silence? I for one do find it hard to come up with new ways of saying 'hey michael, your freakin great at this writing shit' and not sound like a tosser, and i'm NOT joking….don't discount your abilitites mate…
    Cheers, Kelly

    Kell-

    It's only 6:22am and your comment has me laughing.
    I can almost "hear" you saying this which makes it even funnier.
    It is very funny what turns people on…or off.
    Just curious, what's a tosser?
    Sounds like it could be juicy… 😉

    ~m 

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  3. I had to comment on this story. First it was beautifully written. I hope one day my daughter will remember a moment spent with me in the way you remember that moment with your Mom. Second, I live on Cape Cod. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s profoundly beautiful to me (especially when the tourists aren’t around) and even sometimes when they are. And third, my daughter and I have always loved thunderstorms to the point that when there is one we get in the car and chase it. I now live with her and her husband and we are just waiting for a thunderstorm to go chase. I’m an amateur astronomer so we also go out for every meteor shower and the few aurora borealis that we have managed to see down here.

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  4. I had to comment on this story.
    First it was beautifully written.
    I hope one day my daughter will remember a moment spent with me in the way you remember that moment with your Mom.
    Second, I live on Cape Cod. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s profoundly beautiful to me (especially when the tourists aren’t around) and even sometimes when they are.
    And third, my daughter and I have always loved thunderstorms to the point that when there is one we get in the car and chase it. I now live with her and her husband and we are just waiting for a thunderstorm to go chase.
    I’m an amateur astronomer so we also go out for every meteor shower and the few aurora borealis that we have managed to see down here.

    I’ve written several posts that address the Cape.
    I’ve gone there for many years and have several friends that live there as well.
    If you find my search box, type in ‘Cape Cod’ and see what comes up.
    I think you would relate to much of what I’ve written. And I think you would enjoy it.
    You might like Boomtown
    At any rate, thank you so much for visiting and leaving an awesome comment.
    be well,
    ~m

    Like

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