Waves raging, trees blowing, sky gray. The rain battered against my walls, gusts raking across my windows. Ian was anything but emollient.
After weeks of seeing a few drizzles, the hurricane came. More rain but also more wind. I didn’t fear the storm, having survived so many before. My occupants were hardly fazed, walking my halls and playing games in the lobby.
No running across the deck as the pool swelled and overflowed. But the kitchen remained open, Lucy and Bryan working hard. I can almost smell the caffeine and syrup from all the lattes and pancakes they served. All walks of life watched as the palm fronds bent and the waves raged closer to the deck. Squealing children and the tap of canes absorbed the sound of the storm within my lobby.
Thankfully they weren’t upset; my alarm went off multiple times in the night warning for evacuation. Poor Jerry had to announce the false alarm. Of course, their cell phones blared just as loudly about flash floods.
My only consolation is that my walls keep the ocean from flooding my corner of Daytona Beach. The houses and roads that are much shorter than me don’t see the waves that crash against my shores. My beach may be underwater and my windows soaked, but the smaller structures behind me won’t need to fear. I stand tall so they may remain.
How long will the storm last? I won’t complain. The lack of hustle and bustle, the registering of guests and screaming at the pool, was refreshing. Simply community, watching the waves.
But I hope it ends soon. Every corridor echoes the weather channel and the devastation in other parts of Florida. The flooding, the deaths. I wish I could cover them, could block the flood waters. But I’m only one building, restrained to my foundation. I can’t save them all.