Figuratively. Literally. Even though it feels like nothing’s up—like nothing intense could possibly be on the way—it is.
I’ve found this to be the most disquieting aspect of life. How totally normal and nondescript the moments just before big events feel.
Your morning commute the day you got laid off.
The last day before your child was born.
The days between sending out proposals and getting the business-shifting replies.
The days, weeks, months, years, where it feels like those small incremental changes you’re making are amounting to absolutely nothing…until suddenly you realize how far you’ve come.
Or/And, as in the case right now, the OG calm before the storm: an actual calm before a literal storm.
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We’ve spent the day securing all potential flying objects around our house. We’ve filled up on gas and bought non-perishable food supplies.
According to every weather forecaster and news show from Rhode Island to Newfoundland & Labrador, it’s time to batten down the hatches. There’s a 600-mile-wide storm headed our way, and shit’s about to get real.
And yet… It’s a glorious evening here in Fredericton. Quiet and calm. A beautiful sunset.
You’d never know what was coming.
Like a hurricane,
James
P.S. I’m piqued because I’m set to drive the 8.5 hours to Burlington, Vermont tomorrow to see friends of the list and amazing musicians Shannon Curtis and Jamie Hill play at The Flynn on Saturday night. My fingers are crossed (typing’s not easy).
P.P.S. If you’re in the Burlington area, I highly recommend going to their show!
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