Weathering the storm.
You’ve heard the adage; be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. The hurricane I had been praying for a week ago made a sudden turn on Thursday night and Jeanne, which we thought was safely out to sea, veered back to the coast. Despite many exchanged phone calls between Ryan and I, we decided to stick with the original plan that he might join me on Friday night and pray we’d make it out on Sunday before Jeanne hit the coast. Our judgement was a bit off and Jeanne picked up speed, hitting the coast and storming through the center of Florida at our scheduled time of departure, leaving us trapped in Florida until tonight.

I have learned a lot from this trip. I have learned that your co-workers, once loosened with a drink or two, will surprise you with their behavior. I have learned that I am never to be a road warrior, that people go to Florida to die either by old age or hurricane, that the best time to visit a theme park is the day before a hurricane hits, that I should look better for wolves in sheeps' clothes and a multitude of other things.

Everything about Jeanne, except the news and the aftermath, was invisible to us. The hotel surrounds of a huge atrium that is 4.5 acres – a virtual biosphere that the inhabitants never need leave. You can imagine how creepy that is after a week.

We were locked in the biosphere from late Saturday night to Monday morning and emerged this morning to leave the wreck and make our way to the airport. The sun shone brightly, but Jeanne’s leftover humidity hung in the air, clinging to your pants and shirt. The wind, which we heard nothing of the night prior, left its mark on the landscape and trees leaned in the traveling direction as if to say, “She went that-a-way.”
I was thankful to get on the plane. Restless the closer we got to home. And as we approached the airport, the sun was setting as we floated above the lower layer of clouds, making the plane glow orange and red as we passed through them. I caught a glimpse of the Minneapolis skyline in the distance, which reflected the sun and reminded me of the Emerald City. The lakes sat quietly, nestled among the farm fields and office buildings, traffic was winding down for the night and as the pilot announced the cool 70-degree temperature, I was anxious for the humidity-free breeze to embrace me. It’s good to be home. It’s very good to be home.

posted by paula 9:25 PM