There have been times throughout my life when I’d felt like I was stuck in the middle of a raging storm. Everywhere I’d look, I’d see chaos and confusion. Heavy winds would circle me, destroying everything in their path, throwing my life off course. Giant storm clouds would cover the sky until there was nothing but darkness. It felt like a whirlwind was heading in my direction, and it wouldn’t stop until it swallowed me whole. There was no escape, no way out, and no matter how hard I tried, I’d never be able to prevent the inevitable–getting sucked in, with nobody around to hear my cries for help. My whole world would crash down before my eyes, and there’d be nothing I could do about it except to watch everything burn. And I had always felt so powerless and alone as the storm closed in on me, trapping me inside and forcing me to face my tragic fate. 

But every so often, there’d come a brief window of time when everything would still, and there’d be a period of peace, of calm and steadiness. The storm would settle down, and the skies would open up again. The sun would peek out from behind the clouds, enveloping me with its warm, soft light. Everything would seem to slow down, and the world would fall into silence as if it was waiting for something; for what, I never knew. I probably never will. But the ocean levels that’d be rising just moments before would start to fall again, and the wind would stop howling, suddenly nothing more than a gentle breeze. It was like the eye of the storm where, although the storm continued to rage around me, although the world continued to fall apart, I would feel safe. The fear that previously stunned me in place would start to melt away. Only in those moments could I forget the tragedy that was my life.  Even though the storm wasn’t over yet, I could pretend, if only just for a second, that my life was normal, that everything was okay again.

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