Now and then, I find the darkest hours before dawn to be the most difficult. It took me a few moments to realize what woke me up, a few moments before I heard the wind howling, gusting at more than 50 mile per hour, branches scraping the side of the building.
It’s ironic that I love watching the power of the storm, yet at the same time find myself still craving the sound of a soothing voice, telling me it’s just a storm, assuring me it will soon pass.
Feeling silly about my apprehension, I walked out on the balcony, wanting to be brave, somehow needing to know if the storm was as bad as it sounded. Standing there in the darkness, listening and watching, I sensed an emptiness inside of me, the realization that there was absolutely no one I could reach out to, not one single person that I could call and say, I am afraid . . .
Maybe in these moments we find the strength to depend on ourselves.