Waiting for Landfall

What am I feeling? I don't know. The elation of knowing I wouldn't need to go into the office today or tomorrow, the cosy feeling of shacking up away from the world, turned in a moment, and I didn't even notice it was happening. It was ridiculous in its suddenness, the way the darkness outside, the storm clouds hovering over the city seemed to seep inside me, and I can't even figure out why. Maybe I miss my children being here in my house, where I can keep them safe. Or maybe I just feel cranky, certainly the word of the week.

The city is empty, waiting for Hurricane Sandy to make landfall. The subways have closed down, the buses are parked, the supermarket shelves are empty, after the near hysteria of yesterday. The checkout lines snaked to the back of the store, up and down aisles, and the batteries were sold out, but the birthday candles I needed were right there for the taking, and bottled water was being replenished continuously. I didn't pick up enough canned food, according to my brother in Jamaica, who called to share tips on hurricane preparedness.

He warned that it wasn't the storm, it was the aftermath that might be tricky. The power outages for days. The loss of water that is delivered to our high rise apartments via electric pumps. I'm thinking of venturing outside to see if the 24 hour bodega on the corner of my street is still open, and if they have canned things I might buy.

This is how the streets look right now. The city is silent, except for the rustling of trees, and at the shoreline, the sound of the tides, rising.