Needle, Meet Haystack

“Oh, man, it’s definitely going to start raining now,” Aaron says to nobody in particular.

Aaron has a desk by a window, meaning that not only does he have a light source, but it’s natural light.  My cubicle has neither, which explains why I’ve been looking more pale than usual lately.  Aaron’s got seniority at the company over most of the department, so this tells me that I have to put in a good amount of time if I ever want to see the sun.  But at least his window only has a view of the parking lot, so it’s not that great.  ”The wind’s picking up too.” he adds before returning to whatever project he’s working on.

By the time I look out the window fifteen minutes later, I can see that things have picked up.  Bullets of water are crashing towards the ground, moving like a swarm of angry bees as trees, bushes, and the rest of the decorative outdoor plants in our office center are shaken left and right.  The sky bellows a deep boom that shakes the roof a bit, and the mid-afternoon sun has all but disappeared.  It is most definitely raining.  I think of all of those people who say that Arizona is a dry, desert wasteland and hope that their smug asses are somehow caught outside right now.

It lasts for about an hour, intermittently making the tap-tap-tap noises against the window that make it seem like there are several more employees in the office, and for some reason, they all use typewriters.  I don’t notice that it’s stopped, partially because I’m not near a window, and partially because my headphones are on, and I happen to be listening to a really good song.  So by the time I leave the office a few hours later, I’m surprised to see the giant puddles that have formed a moat around the parking lot.

Driving home, I notice a large number of trees that have been knocked over into the road, causing the traffic to slow down, even though it’s already piddling along at a snail’s pace due to several inches of dirty water under our wheels.  And then I think of the large, unsteady trees in my yard.  And the fact that my 13-year-old dog who hates storms is home alone.  And that the house is surrounded by trees.  And I want my car to sprout wings so I can get home quickly to see if she’s okay and to make sure that the house isn’t destroyed.

I finally make it home, and the house is in one piece.  Sure, there are a bunch of branches strewn all over our yard, the neighbors’ yards, the street, and the roof, but nothing is damaged.  Then, I walk in, greet my dog who probably didn’t even consider any of the mortal peril I feared she was in, and hear an odd sound coming from the den.  It sounds like wind.  Which is probably because the storm blew out the biggest window in the entire house.

Instantly, my brain kicks into recovery mode.  I cordon off the area to prevent pooch-related interference, assess the damage, and begin picking up glass shards.  I then realize I’ve cut my hands, so I go wash and dress the bleeding mess on my fingertips and find my work gloves.  The glass is all piled or bagged, and I go for the measuring tape.  The window frame is about 6 feet by 9 feet.  A quick trip to the local hardware store and ninety minutes’ worth of duct taping later, and the window is patched up.  Half a roll of paper towels later, and the floor is dry, most of the tiny glass surprises found and discarded to the trash.  Ten minutes of noting mentally to lift with my knees later, and all of the large branches are in a pile in the back yard.  And one early morning run time later,  and the house looks mostly back to normal.

Storms don’t care if you had planned to go for dinner with your best friends, or work on a project, or watch a movie.  Storms are ignorant of the age of the trees in your yard or the tiny cracks in your windows that you weren’t aware of.  Storms are indifferent about your feelings, your health, your passions, your friends and family, and your job.  Sometimes they’re metaphorical storms, like a personality or a project or a chore.  And sometimes they’re literally storms.  You might not know that they’re even present, but you will know when they have passed by.

So you can try to fight the against the rain and the thunder and the wind.  Or you can ignore it.  Or you can clean up after it and move on.

What will you do when the storm comes?