Post-Tornado Thoughts

As I drive home I just see wreckage.

That destruction only took seconds, but the grim effects lie frozen in time. A reminder that change will come, life will end… and that life will, indeed… go on. Still, some part of me believes that those winds not only enacted physical changes, but took with them a period of time. For reasons I can’t quite put into words… I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore.

I don’t recognize this world I’m living in. I don’t recognize myself. I see wreckage on right, and grandeur on the left. I feel as if I was unplugged from one outlet and connected to a different one.

Plugged in again… but to what, I’m not sure just yet… I try really hard to swing on the rope of gratitude, because I am grateful for many things.

More accurately, I’m extraordinarily grateful for a few, precious things. But the river rises, and sometimes my derriere dampens in the water. and often, I just go completely under.

I grab and grab, looking for that rope to pull me up.

Now, I’m hearing voices from the other side of that river. What used to amount to a slight mumble, only to be heard in silence… now rings clearly through the sound of the rushing water. Truly lost in the middle, stretching to touch the rope, yet drawn to the warmth of the voices on that other shore.

Somewhere between feeling insignificant, and believing in significance.