The cold evening air whips past me, threatening to throw my tiny frame to the ground. Lately it has been pretty stormy. It is our warning of what is only beginning. People are boarding up the windows and leaving sandbags by their doors. Everyone is stocking up on canned foods, water bottles, and flashlights. Going through hurricane season where I live is like jail. You’re isolated from the world. Stuck inside your home that may or may not even be a safe place.

Normally there would be people buzzing in downtown, where I am. But not so much right now. The clouds aren’t friendly and fluffy anymore. They are sharp and the shade of coal. If the roar of the wind wasn’t so loud I would be able to hear the faint eco of my footsteps on the concrete. Step, step, step….I pause and looked up. Why am I even out here? A raindrop hits my forehead and slides down to the tip of my nose. I go cross eyed to get a good look at it. Tiny, clear, and pure. I brushed it off with annoyance. Now, continuing my walk I think to myself. The wind rages forward again and I quickly grip the light post that is luckily in arms reach. When it calms, and by calm I mean back to the already raging wind, I let go and sigh.

This kind of weather makes me feel useless. It makes me feel weak. You see all the power and might in this storm, in this season, and then you see me. In the middle of it all, tiny and struggling to keep good posture because something you can’t even see keeps blowing you down. Maybe that’s why I’m out here. To prove that I’m strong. But prove to who? Anyone who has lived here long enough knows that now is not the time to “be strong”. Despite all the fear coursing through me, I don’t want to run to safety. Somehow, someway, it’s peaceful out here. I smile a tiny smile. Peaceful? Am I crazy? Maybe. I keep walking. The raindrops are coming more frequently now. I keep walking. The wind is coming faster now. I keep walking. Thunder growls in the sky, and the lighting strikes so close I can see smoke from what it hit. I keep walking…