Only hours after Hurricane Sandy swept through the U.S. Northeast
earlier this week, I found myself walking in an offshoot of the wreckage in
Turks & Caicos, thousands of miles South of Times Square – in the Caribbean
Sea. Locals told me it was the roughest current they’d seen in decades. Yet it
didn’t bother me that the normally calm, pristine swatch of sand was now
hip-height water, the waves curling and uncurling so much that I lost one of my
red flip flops. It was literally yanked off my foot as my jaw fell, marveling
at the power of water during a storm, thinking that this is nothing compared to boardwalks crumbling
in New Jersey.
Instead of panicking I waited for the predictable wave to undulate
back to the shore, my red flip flop in its clutch. I snatched it, enjoying the thrill.
Who needs a calm beach anyway? Isn’t that a tad predictable?
I kept thinking that those waves are a lot like life. Just
when we think we’ve got it all figured out with work, trips to the grocery
store, paying bills, coffee dates with friends – boom. Something, or someone,
throws us a whammy whether it’s a flat tire on your car, a friend’s accusations
that stab at your character or a medical emergency. We make the best of it,
plodding through that same ocean, knowing there’s a sunny, calm day on the
horizon.
