After the storm

Walk outside, and you're amazed. Just a little while ago, you cowered in a corner, hoping, praying the storm wouldn't do too much damage to you. You tried to prepare as best you could, with provisions handy, secured the house, made sure everything was tied down. Still, you weren't ready for the ferocity the storm unleashed. It shook the house so hard, you thought this was it--the end. And it refused to let up. A descent into hell couldn't be worse than this. Then, steadily, it grew more quiet, and finally, the storm relented, its fury moved on, diminished. Now you move outside. There's damage, bad in some spots, just ok in others. But nothing that can't be repaired. You look up and the last vestiges of clouds race away, and blue sky drifting in. You breathe deeply, thankful for relief. The last few hours shook you, but you survived. You were as ready as you could be. You're still here. Ready to start again. Ready for the next storm.