When I "struggle," I return to reread posts of others who have won their struggle or at least won today's battle. It may be a lifelong battle or a recent event. I’ve found many consistencies in life, one of those is change. It seems oxymoronic to say, but I believe it to be true. During my earlier life in New England, we said with the appropriate accent, ….” don’t like the weatha,’ wait a minute. The axiom is wicked true here in Florida too. There were recent severe weather events which left hundreds of lives forever changed, homes devastated or condemned beyond repair. Just a short ride on the interstate reveals the devastation, damage and catastrophe of hurricane Erma. A forest-worth of trees pushed over by hurricane wind. I photographed my backyard as the storm started and heard my fence posts snap at the storm’s peak. Come daybreak, the yard was littered with leaves, branches, dead fall and around the corner, fifty-feet of flattened fence. I started the generator, assessed the damage, started making piles of debris and helped my neighbors. As the days and weeks of clean up progressed, I noticed I was in a funk, semi-pissed off, in a black cloud all the time. I did not know why. Everyone I knew was spared catastrophe but we all had been inconvenienced in one way or several ways. Locally, a state highway is still not fully operational. Traffic limps along with only one lane open in either direction. The catastrophe gloom was mostly replaced by the seasonal holiday cheer. I had almost forgotten the daily question post Erma, “how is your pile of debris today?” I asked the question for people to describe their post Erma timeline. Over time the question had become a metaphor of life. We all have one or two or more piles. The piles change over time, but we all have them. The pile shrinks, grows or can be completely dwarfed by a larger one. The measure of the pile is unimportant. What is important is how we handle it. So, how is your pile of debris?
