category 1

(i write this in my basement apartment, awaiting the arrival of the second hurricane of my life, thinking about the first...)

I lived on the Gulf coast of Florida for the better part of a decade. The Gulf is less storm-prone than the Atlantic. But a big one, at least category 2, was bearing down on us that year. The county went into "save your ass" mode, evacuating the lowland areas. My Iona home with my grandmother was low, so we loaded up the car and headed across town to Aunt Joyce, who greeted us with love and food. She'd made "hurricane cookies", enormous toll house creations that were chewy and carmelized, with a flat hurricane-eye center. A few hours and games later, the incoming storm was downgraded to category 1. I mulled this over, disappointed. I'd been expecting an event i'd remember for a lifetime. I'd been ready for a little heroism, even.
And now...category 1.
Ah well. At least i'm having fun in the company of loved ones.
But as the situation percolated in my craw, i decided i was going to make some metaphorical lemonade.
Not even i would be foolish enough to flaunt an evacuation warning for category 2. But...
I said goodbye, and drove across town to Bunche Beach. I parked, took my shirt and shoes off, and walked to the water's edge. There was no sign of any other life as far as the eye could see. A couple miles offshore, i could see the storm. It looked very dense. I walked into the water.
When it was up to my waist, i stopped. The storm was now a mile away, and the enormity of it was starting to register. It extended south, further than my vision could take in.
I waited.
A mild rain started falling. If you've never been in a body of water during a rainstorm, you're missing one of life's most indescribably beautiful experiences.
The storm was now a couple hundred yards away. All it looked like at this point was a wall, inexorably moving toward me. There was an enormity to it, a sense of forces that were greater than life, but there was also a feeling of gentleness and peace.
I waited.
Moving at about two feet per second, the wall continued.
Ten feet away, it hadn't lost its wall-like appearance...if anything, the opposite.
I took a breath...
And the wall enveloped me.
If i've ever felt more alive than in that moment, i can't imagine when. The force of the water was so intense, that had there been someone standing next to me, we never could have heard each other speak. I laughed and shouted into the universe.
I stood there until the torrent began to lessen. I splashed around for a bit, then walked back to my car.
Somewhere, there was a hurricane cookie with my name on it.

(And now life repeats itself, as once again an incoming hurricane has been downgraded to category 1. This time i'm a denizen of New York City. It doesn't occur to me to go to the beach, as the necessary public transit has been shut down, and for some reason [perhaps a touch of Gulf coast snobbery], i've never bonded with the beach in my eight years here. Only been to Coney Island once, and that was little more than passing through. Perhaps this summer i'll amend that.)