This is OLD. Like, really old. Cade asked me to repost, so here you go. A blast from the past...
soooo...I started college yesterday! :x One of my classes is
English 1010. First assignment, to write a narrative on an event that
occurred in my favorite environment. whew - HARD, I tell ya! This is a
posting of what I came up with. This storm actually occurred in
September of 2008, while Cade & I were on our way back from a
motorcycle rally in Colorado. :)
I duck my
head to avoid the big drops of rain that have started protruding from
the dark, ominous looking clouds that cover the whole sky above me, and
stinging my already wind-beaten face. The nervousness inside of me
screams to find shelter from the wretched storm, yet there is nowhere.
surroundings are barren. For miles, desert sage, the infamous low-lying
red rocks and cacti are all that can be seen. I cling to my husband as
the wind proceeds to toss us about and he tries his hardest to maintain
control, to remain on the road. We proceed on, into the eye of the
storm. We have no other choice, it must be.
Soon the rain becomes
thicker, harder, colder. I want to cry out from the sharpness of the
stings, and maybe I do, but no one hears me over the low growl of the
engine. As we carry on, the rain and the wind are so extreme that we
can't see but a few feet in front of us, at one time even coming upon an
area of the road that was being washed out even as we crossed.
search the gray skies, looking for just an inkling of hope, just a
smidgen of blue sky where we might get some repreive. I see it! It's not
far! Nearly a half hour after beginning this war with mother nature, we
have found shelter - a decrepit gas station.
The people at our
place of refuge seemed to have been living there as long as the gas
station, their dark skin weathered and beaten as if they had been
working in the desert their entire lives. As we tried to regain our
composure and dry out a little, we sat under the sagging awning that was
covering the old, rusted gas pumps. A seemingly stray, pathetic,
filthy, three-legged dog begged us for a few scraps of whatever we might
have to add to his skin and bones body. As I dug out some jerky from
the inside of my very wet coat, I must have alarmed him, for he ran off
before receiving any morsels.
We waited and watched as the storm passed us by, leaving us free to go about our ride home.
we resumed our adventure, I pondered on the events that had just
occurred. As I was caught up in the fear and trepidation that we had
experienced, I felt a calm. We had come through. We were safe. As I
relaxed, I soon became aware of my current surroundings. First, the
wetness of the road. How the steam from the heat of the warm September
sun was drying the dark asphalt even as we rode over it. Next, the smell
of wet sage that permeated my nose, the scent of the red dirt fresh
with the wetness of the storm. And lastly, the crispness of the air as
we cut through it on our way back home. All of this together revealing
to me yet again the greatness, majesty and grandeur that we enjoy on
I was anxious to be back in my warm, safe abode, yet
with time I would look back upon this trial with admiration, for without
this storm I would not have ever experienced the intimacy with the
earth that one can only have while riding on a motorcycle, through the
vast desert during a downpour, and after the storm has subsided.