WHO WAS MAX BENSON?
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Interrupted

Wind

By Carey Ann Hunt

No one likes to be interrupted.

Cut short or side swiped.

Definitely not hood-winked,

Or have a wrench in thrown in.

Worse, the dreaded fly in the ointment.

We creatures of habit hate interrupted routine.

So it is on a wind-swept, almost sleepless night,

Sleepily making my way to the bathroom.

In auto pilot, flipping the switch.

Nothing.

Darkness.

Black.

Night.

Interruption.

Back to bed.

Hoping my plants are okay,

While all hell broke loose outside.

Fires burning. People and trees uprooted.

Broken. Disadvantaged. Windy and dry.

Thinking at times can be of great advantage.

Helpful as well as handy.

Other times, well,

Thinking can be much more like the wrench.

The old fly in the ointment.

Sleep kept just far away enough to be out of reach.

Why didn’t I get propane for campstove?

How am I going to make my tea?

It was when a massive gust of appreciation blew over me.

I worried about my morning tea.

Really?

How lucky am I?

Gratefulness swept over me like a wave.

Angry winds outside. Trees doing their best.

Inside. Cozy warm and dry. Thinking.

How long will the power stay off?

Will the food spoil?

I slept.

Window open, a world outside,

Dreaming of a better tomorrow.

A dawn I filled my tank,

No lines.

To keep the phone charged.

Just in case the power might be out for days.

Not knowing.

Must keep distant worried minds at peace.

Nugget Market had power,

Maybe the world has not ended.

For now, anyhow.

Normal. No interruption. Business as usual.

On the other hand,

Some wondered how their cold shower might feel.

Contrast.

Grateful in ways like never before imagined.

Appreciation hit me the way the 10-inch branch from ‘my’ tree

Hit the concrete not more than 20 feet away from my open window.

Landing 6 feet away from my car.

Lucky. Grateful. Blessed beyond measure.

Interrupted with gratitude and howling wind. 

Begging for change.

Now is as good time as any.

I hear the sound of the wind,

Blowing open and flapping the windows of my mind.

Encouraged by the compassion I see.

Eyes wide open.

Huge branches fallen.

Destruction.

Refugees all around us.

Displacement.

Side by side with corruption.

Our times. Our earth.  We own it.

Own the need for healing.

Be grateful for now and appreciate.

Let’s be true and not be blown off course

By gusting winds of societal pressure.

Be the interruption.

Today’s fallen branch,

Reminded me of my favorite climbing tree,

Crashing to the ground, when I was five.

I was devastated.

Heartbroken. I thought life could not go on.

Until I realized that since it fell I could reach the tippy top.

Something I never thought I’d be able to do,

Had it not fallen.

Lucky, today for a wind- blown pomegranate,

Cracked open and beautiful. Fallen.  

Along the street, right there to meet me,

As I parked to help a friend clean windswept debris.  

Silver linings.

 

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