HURRICANE
Word Count: 417
The biggest storm of the season, the hurricane of hurricanes since 1938, this is what they were promising. She worried about losing her things. Each newscast made it sound worse. Tie down your boats and your children. The winds would surely carry them away. Once they were gone, they were gone.
She, who hadn’t even given away her husband’s clothes yet, who had all her check stubs from 1990, who saved her grown children’s toys and locks of hair tied with blue and pink ribbons for each year up through age seventeen when they’d gone off to college and refused to send her remnants of haircuts that she was no longer privy to, no longer needed to hold hands and dry tears, this hurricane worried her.
She took down all the plants hanging lush and full this late in the season splashing color in the bays between the columns of her porch. She brought in the wicker furniture and picked all the nearly ripe tomatoes and squash. It was strange that after she’d picked the ones she thought were near ready, the ones left behind looked redder, riper, the squash bigger when there were none nearby to compare.
With everything locked up, tied down, put away, secured in some way, she sat down to read and wait. Every so often she checked the news as the hurricane crept its way to her door. It slipped into her concentration and she put down the book and went upstairs to their bedroom. She spent some minutes looking out windows, watching the rain streak and run down the glass. Then she opened his top dresser drawer. An hour, maybe two went by, counted in cufflinks and photos, underwear and anniversary cards and tears.
Outside the breeze blew itself into a wind. Trees waved their arms to music in a dance that rose and fell, rose and fell. She listened to the windows rattle in a vain attempt to free themselves of their sashes. She thought it sounded like a life-changing event, a fierce and bold need to be noticed. To be heard. She picked up his ties, his tee-shirts, his socks, dropped them all in a laundry basket. Went down the stairs.
She took these things outside. She stood at the edge of the porch. The rain swept in a fine mist first one way then the other. One by one she held things out and the wind picked it up from her fingers and took it away.
This is so beautiful, so wonderfully described I can see every raindrop, and so bittersweet, that I am [again] in awe of you, Susan, and DEMAND you submit this somewhere prestigious immediately. Wow. [I’d say I’m blown away by it, but oof, what a pun].
Oh Gill, thank you so much. Yes, I like this one too and I’ve asterisked it as a possible submission when I get down to business and start submitting again.
Great story and a great finish!
Thank you, George–it’s been a good summer project!
wonderful finish, susan, sorry to come in only too late but i’m catching up now. “Trees waved their arms to music in a dance that rose and fell, rose and fell.” — hope you folks are safe, too!
Thank you Marcus, for this and the generosity of your time in reading and commenting throughout this project. I did email you a few days back but believe I may have been having trouble with sending out and not sure you got it. I wished you well and it looks like you have recovered from your recent illness. Best to you!
Great ending Sue; I enjoyed the same storm and probably would have benefited from tossing a few things to the wind as well. Hopefully will continue seeing some of your postings – you’ve been quite an inspiration!
You too have been an obvious inspiration, Steve and it’s been a pleasure keeping up with you here! Since I’ve committed to a daily story all this year, I’ll just be moving on to #241/365! Hope that you too will continue with your images and writing.
Beautiful work, Susan! I like that the hurricane had some positive effect (amidst everything else) in inspiring your story 🙂
Thank you, Kelli. I appreciate your visit!