ophelia

So Ireland is all hunkered down waiting for Ophelia. Storm proofing, drain clearing, battery charging. Out my window there is a tropical balminess to the air coupled with fierce gusts that have the pleasant side-effect of de-soup-smelling the ward. But we are at the ready.

I think of that classic movie shot that swoops in the lit window of a house, travels across a room to a picture on the wall of a house with a lit window, through the window across a room to a picture on the wall of a house with a lit window, through the window … and on and on.

Through the window, across a room I am also all hunkered down waiting for my own Opehlia to hit. There are warning gusts in the form of bleeds and contractions, but no one is quite sure when the hurricane proper will hit land. Maybe it will be downgraded to a post-tropical storm. But I am at the ready. Bags always packed. And at the eye of the storm is our little mite. So far still as calm as can be.

Through the window, across a room I think of when s/he will be born. Hoisted from her quiet floating world into a hurricane of her own. Let’s hope she stays in the eye of the storm.