When the clouds became dark, and nature decided enough was enough, I was safely in my room staring through the window at what I thought would be the best entertainment ever. At age eighteen I had yet to see with my own eyes the glory that was a hurricane, and I thrived for the day when one day I too could be among the ranks of my family as having lived through one. Naivety should be a crime.
My eyes were glued to the constant darkening of the world around me, the crying of the wind as it striped through defenseless organisms. Outside was a picture of pure chaos, of a painting that an artist threw out with rage and sorrow in his heart.
The wind took whatever it could lift and flung it around like a rag doll being chewed up by a pup. The rain soaked whatever it could find, drenching everything into nothing but muddy slop. Still I looked on. My young heart eager to see what was next, it beating in anticipation at the adventures yet to come.
I pressed my nose closer against the cold window pane. I can still remember the moisture as it stuck to my nose. I inhaled deeply, mesmerized at the cruel beauty that was before me. Then three seconds later my arm felt like something warm was yanking it backwards.
Unbalanced and stumbling, my bottom landed rather roughly against the carpet floor. Annoyed, I looked around ready to curse off whoever it was responsible for my rough tumble. Three things happened within that second, three things that I would always remember, three things I will never forget. First, there was no one there, second, the roof of my house was doing a happy dance as it banged freely against the supporting walls and third where I had stood before now had a huge cement block standing guard.
Angel or not? I didn’t imagine something pulling me backwards, and definitely didn't fall on my own. I guess the only thing I can say is, thanks to my guardian angel, death by cement block wasn’t happening that day.