Hurricane Sandy

Sandy stole my words.  Desolation and despair  triumphed attempts at descriptive narrative  paled in comparison to the cold, desolate reality left behind.   Humvees and police cars patrol debris clogged streets.  Red and blue emergency lights strafe empty lots where homes once stood.  Houses ripped apart,  tilted, torn, gravity defying structures,  now open vistas to the ocean, calm today  that last night roared through and leveled homes  and the playing field between the haves and have nots.  How can water wreak havoc of this magnitude.  Unprecedented wave heights on top of swells went where they would, unbridled, uncaring natural force,  mother nature raging, roaring  not in spite  but because she could,  ran amok  reminding us of her majesty, her power  and the fact that  there but for the grace of God we have been privileged to live. I can't  be mad at the ocean. It is my life blood.  It courses through my veins,  grounds me, embraces me unconditionally.  Dark, grey afternoons settle on our town.  Houses dark since she hit  sit waiting for owners to make the next move.  Restore the shore  to what?   Glory days of yesteryear surface in isolated pockets,  quickly erased by scars that will never heal.  Open wounds on a landscape  trapped  write it off as a once in a lifetime event  or is Sandy the new norm.  There is a zombie like feeling waiting in the wings.  Vacant stares, shaking heads prevail.  Unrestrained optimism battles resignation.  Fool me once and it's on me,  fool me twice, what then.  This is my home, a living dream personified.  Sleeping, waking, walking, loving living exactly where I dared to dream about so many years ago.  Time is not healing.  Each passing day another storm related issue.   Another family lost everything.  Everything.   How do you get your arms around that.  Where do these people go,  How do you rebuild what was such a personal extension of your family history.