Look at the storm, you said. See how the sky turns Poseidon blue and the waves crest white like Tibetan mountains? You said come, let’s go outside and feel it but I was too busy boarding up windows and checking flashlights to notice. You held out your hand and said I’d never see the beauty in life wearing glasses made of fear, but I didn’t take it. I’ve been hurt enough to know that when the storm alarm sounds, I’ve got to put up my walls or get out. How I Live Through Hurricanes
