Sunshine Days after the Storm

A Memory

Our snow is nearly gone, replaced by a cold wind that chatted with our house throughout the night. I love that sound. As I lay in bed, with the lights turned out, the rhythm soothed me into sleep.

When I was a little girl, what is now called the Columbus Day storm, made its presence memorable on October 12th, 1962. I don't remember that night in great detail, but perhaps as more of a "sense" of that night. At four and a half years old I am surprised I remember anything at all.

Indeed, the wind blew. I must have lay awake because I remember the shadows of the trees moving swiftly out past my bedroom window. There was a sheet that hung over my window, but I could see the shadows behind it flickering fast.

I don't think I was scared. My little sister Margie would have been sleeping somewhere in the house, and I may have worried about her. I often did even as we grew older. But all I can say about that night is my memory of the sound and the dancing shadows outside my bedroom window.

And then it was morning. As I stood by the living room front door "someone" opened it, I cannot see in my mind who opened it. Outside was clear, sunny, and very bright! Years later, I was told that our big tree had blown down in our yard, but I don't recall seeing it toppled over, even though I knew that tree; it was the only one we had in our front yard.

What I do remember with a "sense" of childlike recall, was my fascination with the sunshine. I could not understand why it was so bright outside after such a night of moving shadows. I must have expected something much different before that door was opened.

To this day, though vague, that memory is comforting. I lean towards an ingrained belief that bright, sunny days follow stormy nights. Maybe that is why storms have never frightened me (at least I don't remember one which has). Or maybe it is because I am reminded of a time that I was secure within my first home, with my first family...and had no reason to be frightened.

At this moment outside the wind is still rushing, though instead of a city wind storm, now I feel a sense of the ocean's call. It is peaceful just to sit here, this early morning hour, close my eyes, and hear an ocean's sound...the clicking clocks, and the deep rumblings of sleeping dogs...as I remember another secure time...

This place is by the ocean; three figures on a grey morning are digging for clams along its shoreline. A twelve year old girl is desperately fumbling with a clam gun. Two old people are showing the girl how to use it.

But that is another story; this is also one with security and stability that has been held tight for many, many years in my mind.

And it is mornings like these, when the wind is making its own waves around our home, that I slip off into a time of warm remembrances.