Writing Challenge Day 16
Be prepared, not scared
In the corner of the screen, I read 6:14 am. I press play, close the backdoor, put on my shoes, and click the leash on Mr. Toby’s collar. The gate shuts behind me with a dampened thud. Mr. Toby patiently sits beside me. I pause the podcast and look around. It is quiet, too quiet. The sky is grey, with no wind, no sounds of cars, no birdsong—just an eerie silence. My head and tummy have been feeling funny all week. “Mr. Toby.” He looks up at me, tail wagging. “Good boy.” I press play and we walk.
Mr. Toby happily sniffs around, marking every bush we pass. The concrete glides past as I stare at the ground, completely immersed in my podcast. A gust of wind catches me off balance, a cold drop of rain lands on my arm. Before I know it, rain-filled gales of wind erratically send cold rain in force onto my skin. I don’t flinch; I calmly walk on. The rain feels so cold and soothing. Inside, I am a mess.
The house is still quiet when I get home. Grateful eyes gleam at me while I rub Mr. Toby dry with a towel. After changing into dry clothes, I drop an English muffin in the toaster and wait for the timer for my eggs to be ready.
A ray of sunshine beams onto the countertop. “Make up your mind and get on with it, will ya!” I think. One after another, stumble out of their bedrooms. No school for the next couple of days in anticipation of the arrival of Cyclone Alfred. The podcast drowns out their mumbles and noises. I am not ready yet to engage.
In the living room, I turn off the podcast and search for the news channel to see the latest on Alfred. “Cyclone Alfred has slowed down, expected to gain strength to a category 3 before it makes landfall on Saturday,” the newsreader announces. “Noooo, stretch this agony out further!” The not knowing of what and when this cyclone will happen is messing with my brain. I suppose it’s because it is something I can’t control. The anticipation is killing me.
My nervous system derailed on Monday after the warning of the imminent approach of this cyclone. ‘Be prepared, not scared’ has been the message since Monday. My brain and body agree, and I have gone through the motions of preparation.
The emergency kit – tick
Gloves - tick
Torches and batteries - tick
Important documents and hard drives in a waterproof folder – tick
No loose items around the house – tick
Car filled up, extra jerry can full – tick
Car wrapped in foam camping mats and tarps – tick
Bath filled with water – tick
60 liters of drinking water – tick
Ready to turn off water, electricity, and solar panels – tick
Battery-powered radio set on ABC emergency channel – tick
Deep breath in – deep breath out. We are prepared, but my nervous system is not. As far as I can remember, my body gets thrown out of whack with any major upcoming weather change. Like I have a built-in barometer, and it goes haywire when the pressure is about to change. Usually, it starts a few days before the event: I feel off, can’t concentrate, have no motivation, and my head feels tightly wrapped in cellophane.
It was great when I lived in the snow in Austria. Three days before a big snowstorm, I could feel the pressure change. That was my sign to request a day off in three days. Every time the best fresh powder covered the mountain, I would be in the queue for the first lift up, ready to ride some fresh tracks.
To this day, I don’t understand how and why the pressure change affects me so much. The mystery of this connection remains unanswered, adding to the enigma of how our bodies react to the world around us. Deep breaths in and deep breaths out. We'll be fine.
___
