A category 1 hurricane is expected tonight and it is the first of the season. As it approaches, I work on memories. 1954. Hurricane Carol. I was 9 years old and watching its Category 3 fury whip the calm cove near the Cape Cod Canal into a frenzy. I was enjoying it. Excited, even. Then, our neighbor’s boat, “Coquina” broke its mooring cable and came crashing into my father’s boat, “Hunky Dory”.
I no longer liked the hurricane. It switched to abject fear in one silent collison of wooden beams (the wind was howling so loud you could hear nothing else). I went upstairs to the linen closet, closed the door, and waited out the storm amidst the smell of clean towels and sheets.
Some prefer macaroni and cheese as their comfort food throughout their life.
I prefer the scent of “Tide”.
©Pat Coakley 2010
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