ELENA, 1985
by Robin Shwedo
© Robin Shwedo, 1985
Labor Day weekend,
the storm danced off shore,
debating whether to hit for a final vacation.
The week before,
she had slowly waltzed up the Gulf,
figuring on landing in Louisiana;
maybe the thought of some good food seemed tempting.
Then,
Friday night,
we all sat up,
glued to the t.v.,
watching as reports came in.
The storm veered east,
coming closer to the coast.
At 2:30 in the morning,
the evacuations began.
I call a nearby police department,
seeing if a friend's family is safe.
At the moment, she's my sister;
they'd ever give out info on a mere friend.
Their neighborhood's evacuated to a school;
all safe.
I finish the night
with the TV on,
playing game
after
game
of cards with my son
to pass the time.
Saturday,
the storm stalls,
churning up the water,
gathering strength.
The TV shows people boarding up;
the interview in the street,
the water cutting off access
into and out of the county.
Sunday,
everyone runs out of everything,
and rushes the grocery stores.
No one has any bread;
it has all sold out hours before.
Instead,
we make due
with English muffins.
We wait in line forty-five minutes;
ten checkouts open,
and still the wait.
People leave the line
for the free coffee
in white styrofoam,
bringing back steaming liquid
for those who've saved their places.
People who have never met
talk like old home week,
laughing over the
most ridiculous things.
Leaving the store,
we discover that
the hurricane has tired of the sun coast,
and, turning,
hurries
on its
original course,
and heads for
good ol' Creole cooking.
In 1985, Hurricane Elena sat off the Florida coast for several days before turning and heading for Louisiana. Since Florida is now watching the track of Hurricane Matthew, I thought it would be a good time to post this poem, written a day or so after my family and I watched (along with the rest of Florida) the track of Hurricane Elena. For everyone potentially affected by Hurricane Matthew, stay safe.
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