Waiting for Irene


I slept soundly last night and woke up to silence, the occasional splashing of water on asphalt against tires. I wondered if people were actually listening to the Evacuation Advice from government officials that there would be damaging winds to come that the threat of Irene was real.

There were a few were on the street, those that were out gathering supplies, the supermarket appeared peppered with customers, closing early in anticipation. Almost everyone bidding each other to be safe, stay indoors.

Stay indoors, sleep, read, clean, prepare. Prepare? How much is enough? How much is not enough? I live in a ground floor apartment, approximately 1 mile northeast of Gravesend Bay, 2.4 miles west of Coney Island beach. Will that proximity make it worse? Our block is bordered by 2 large high rises, does that make it better? The drain in the backyard makes me nervous, the last time it rained hard as hell, the entire area was covered in 2-4" of water. Mind you not close enough to my windowsill but predictions for Irene make me wonder how much she will challenge that benchmark.  

The light rain hesitates, the hum of cicadas haunting in the quiet lull before the storm.  It's the waiting, that is the hardest part I think. The waiting of the unknown, of what Mother Nature will choose to bear down on us. 

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