Irene Stirred Things Up, Alright

I'm not gonna lie; I really wanted to have a boyfriend for Hurricane-Turned-Tropical-Storm Irene. I wanted a man-- in the most primal sense of the word. One of those who changes light bulbs with one hand, opens beer bottles with his forearm, and could carry me over his shoulder effortlessly (!) if we had to run for our lives. A big, strong, handy, resourceful, protective man.

I actually had a great time during Irene, hiding out in Brooklyn with a bunch of friends, drinking, laughing, cooking, playing games, and waiting for a tree to fly across the sky or a big Hudson River wave to crash over a building. It was good old fashioned bonding, and I didn't feel lonely or scared. I didn't need this fantasy man, I simply wanted him around. I was happy, surrounded by friends, and having a good time, but still-- this natural disaster brought forth my desire to be loved and cared for.

Currently, my brother and I live together (though he was out of town for Irene), but I lived alone for four years. I learned to change light bulbs, fix leaks, open jars, kill bugs, and mend broken things. I braved many a windy night (and it gets scary up here on the 14th floor during the winter), and I often nursed myself when I was sick. I learned to soothe a burned hand with honey and to put salt under my tongue when my blood pressure gets low. I once took the subway to the hospital when I thought I'd seriously injured my neck and sat in the emergency room for 7 hours by myself. I've carried heavy suitcases through the snow and walked home with eggplants in my pockets after a grocery bag broke on me.

I know I can live on my own; I know I can take care of myself. And that's very important information to have about oneself.

But I don't really want to be alone anymore. I want someone around to share these natural disasters with. Build a puzzle while watching the weather channel, make spaghetti from scratch, use the unused bathtub water to wash yoga mats and curtains, paint the bathroom wall, take pictures of the wind messing up our hair, and snuggle up at the end of it all knowing we survived this crazy non-hurricane... together.

I think this might be what independence is; knowing I can be on my own, but not wanting to be.

Thanks, Irene.

Sky on Sunday evening, after Irene had passed...