Eye Of The Storm

Heaving rain peppered a derelict highway sign, piercing the chain of massive spires that shredded the Miami skyline. A shattered neon sign struggled for life amidst a sea of debris. Howling winds drove the few remaining ornamental vegetation from their shallow roots. Streams of water gushed forth from the depths of the underground sewers, spewing filth and grime into a shallow canal that was once a road. Amidst the chaos of this cataclysm, a solitary van battled the impending torrent.1

I was in that van.2

Relentlessly, rain shattered against the windowsill, howling a foreboding chorus that seemed to echo the disdain that, until then, had only rested inaudibly within the depths of our subconscious minds.3

The fear of death.4

Curled into the crevices of the seat, my twin sister yielded to her fears and shrieked abruptly. A flash of lightning seemed to respond to her outburst, followed in frightening synchronisation by a booming thunder. Subconsciously, I had forced myself to be stronger than her, to resist the fear that gnawed the fragile line between restraint and madness. Following my sisters outburst, that line seemed to have snapped. Wailing in terror, a pair of terrified children fell victim to the common emotional wreckage that lingered long after the storm had faded into the depths memory.5

The storm we fell victim to, was Hurricane Charlie.6

A grey window shielded the passengers of the van from the onslaught of rain. The periodic screeching of the window washers broke a newly found silence, a silence formed by exhaustion and despondency. Our reserve ground into the abyss, my twin and I sought solace in the depths of our hopes, our hopes that we would make it through the storm unscathed, a hope quickly fading. However periodic, the scraping of the window wipers were always out of rhythm, always unnervingly undermining the fragile silence, always unwanted. Both my older sister and mother had also accompanied me in the van. Regardless of the natural security little children are supposed to feel around elders and figures of authority, a sickly uneasiness infested our morale. At that moment, the thing I feared most was chaos, the very same chaos that engulfed the van. The vehicle seemed to be the only barrier between me and the tumultuous tempest, and the barrier was shrinking quickly.7

The highways were barren, the usual picturesque scenario of continuous streams of traffic and technological beauty I had imagined of a highway gave way to fields of grey. The sight was nauseating. The winds increased, and prevailed against the control of the driver, and the fear driven speed of the driver was replaced with forceful caution. A desolate landscape of the once sprawling urbanisation of the Miami vista faded into the wall of fog that surrounded us. 8

An hour passed, and in the distance, the faint silhouette of a police cruiser ambled into view. I could hardly imagine anyone willingly trailing the road in this weather, even to guide others to safety. Later I learnt, this was the last police cruiser who we were to see, as they too retreated to the depths of an underground haven, one we had been seeking for hours. After a brief converse, my mother immediately changed course, beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Her uneasiness only stimulated my anxiety. Being directed to a shelter, I later had the opportunity to assess the situation, had we gone not a mile further, we would have been one of the considerable number of casualties found in the aftermath of the storm, as other unfortunate wanderers were. In the safety of a storm shelter, I took the opportunity to reminisce on the recent debacle. In shelter, the fear that had gripped my heart melted and was quickly replaced with fascination. The roaring of the winds, and the beating of the rain did not carry out their grievous threats to my life. The debris that littered the roadside, the overturned palm trees, the brilliant lightning and the contrasting thunder, was no longer a threatening turmoil, it was art.9

I had found peace in the midst of chaos.10

I now seek my solace in the midst of the storm. I am that solitary soul who finds himself caught in the midst of a tempest and find peace. I have learned to embrace fear, to find consolation within confusion, passion within madness. In my experience with hurricane Charlie, I have learned to exchange terror with wonder. And every time panic infests the minds of those around me, I can now stand tall. I am determined. I am passionate. 11

I am fearless.12