The Eye of the Whirlwind
August 28, 2016 § Leave a comment
When the cyclone hits, it’s a hundred miles per hour of whirling chaos. It roars you deaf, batters you with airborne buses, and shreds you with sharp slivers of siding. But if you make it to the eye of the thing, you have a moment of calm before it snatches you up again.
I feel like I’ve been spinning in the whirlwind for about a month now. My dad is sick and that, on top of the thousand natural shocks, has knocked everything shitward. I spend most days reminding myself to breath. My lower lip spasms. My heart rate thunders like the hooves of a thoroughbred.
Last night, though, I found myself in the eye of the storm. There were good friends and grilled meat and too much alcohol. Today, we’re all suffering for it; as one friend put it, “A whole bottle of bourbon? What are we, college kids?” (No, we very much are not, is the answer.) But last night was wonderful, and much needed, and worth every queasy tumble my stomach is taking today.
(Tracy, it should be noted, may disagree; she has barely been able to move today. But she says she had a good time.)
So here’s my advice if a whirlwind has you in its teeth; get together with some dear friends and carve out a night or an afternoon or even a couple hours of peace with them. It may just help you survive when the eye passes and the whirlwind gets its jaws on you again.
Just go easy on the booze.
Right as I finished this, I heard a rumble of thunder and looked outside to see green, ominous clouds. The time-lapse on the weather radar shows the storm formed in the last half hour, pretty much right over my house. Fear me, for I am the Stormbringer.