a morning page

a storm is coming. i can tell you this not because of the heavy grey skies, bellies pregnant and bowing down to me in points, not because of the dense quiet of this morning, whose only interruptions are one solitary voice of a tiny kokee frog and the rush and chug of automobiles. no, i can tell you a storm is coming because i heard it on tv and on the radio and from the neighbors. flooding. that's what they expect. and we've been preparing for it for three days now. not a drop has fallen. yet, it feels as if the world is holding it's breath, waiting, waiting for the deluge.

of course, one could extrapolate and say that this storm is anything representing great change in our environment. there is always the proverbial calm before the storm. i think back to any moment where there was silence, a lull, the wind stops long enough for you to gather up the pieces of yourself and hold on for dear life.

how metaphors are there for living? personally, i think the waiting for the storm might be worse than the actual storm. the thinking about, the wondering, the fantasizing. all the what could bes but nothing that is. perhaps i'm just impatient.