The Old Man & the Storm

                                                        The Old Man & the Storm

　

                 I was scared out of my wits as we listened to the radio and it told horrifying tales of a wicked storm that was coming our way. Only seventeen but becoming aware of the dangers that life is all about, I was working as a gardener/ man-servant in the lowlands. My dad was a farmer who, in his infinite wisdom, had taught me the only way a man could consider himself such was if he found his own way. Meaning, to him, my manhood depended on me making my own breaks and establishing my own pattern of ethics. Thanks, dad for your support, I thought to myself as I bit the last of my fingernails.

　

                  The old man was a farmer himself and was fascinated by birds, cats and raccoons. Watching the seasons shift seemed to give him the greatest pleasure and I found it amusing when the drought started that he looked worried not one bit. Mother Nature has a way of setting her own redemptive paths and it looked like we were going to be walloped badly and the much need rain would be the consequence. the much-needed rain to the area. Whether I wanted it or not it became my responsibility to ensure the old man’s safety. For reasons I don’t feel like getting into the farm hands had abandoned us and I was alone.

　

                Sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch while petting his calico (for some imbecilic reason he called the cat Lew) he was humming to it and rocking. From where I sat, by the fire, which had just been stoked, I could see him through the window. I heard the wind echo from across the canyon and it sounded like a woman screaming in terror. I leapt to the door and opened it as the old man smiled. Lew jumped off his lap and scurried to the basement. For such a stupid animal, he seemed to have the right idea, I thought as I approached the old man.

　

               Mr. West we have to go inside before that storm hits. Come on, I’ll help you,” I stammered as he gazed at me.

　

             Placidly his eyes sparkled with some excitement, “Calm down okay? It’s only a storm, they happen all the time and this one’s no different,” he replied more audibly than I had ever heard.

　

            “Calm down,” I was incredulous, “for what reason do you think I should do that? That storm is killing people, animals and everything else in its wake. We have to go to the cellar before it’s on top of us,” I reached my hand to grab him and he flopped the other way to prevent it.

　

             After a gentle laugh from the old man, I saw Lew rush upstairs and abandon the basement. The cat bolted through the grass as the rain started to fall. Then lightning blew across the sky and in the brief flash of light, I saw my entire life drift. A falling tree hit the house, the power lines then burst into flame and the roof caught fire. The old man moved with a serenity I’d never seen from anyone. He slowly got off his chair and shrugged. Then skated toward the oldest willow tree in the valley. There he stood and pulled a pipe from his pocket. I do not think I will ever know how but he lit the pipe with a match as the wind picked up. Nearly blowing me off my feet as I forced one leg in front of the other to reach the safety that was the pick-up truck.

　

            The storm was upon us and I climbed into the cab I was not sure if I should turn around and lift the old fart to carry him. I never had the chance as the sheets of rain washed from the sky with an angry fury and I was tossed into the cab. I closed my eyes and prayed for the deluge to end as the windows became covered with water and my vision was lost. The last thing I remembered was hearing the sound of a timber cracking and I was out.

　

            By the time, I awoke in the truck it was morning and I could hear bird’s singing softly. I opened my eyes and then remembered the old man. Rushing out of the cab I almost tripped on my way to the willow. By the time I got there, the old man was still smoking his pipe. He looked happily at me and motioned for me to look behind. I turned and saw the house was completely destroyed and there was nothing left but a blackened wall and a pile of smoldering ash.

　

           I felt horrible, as I wasn’t sure what to say when I heard the relaxing laughter of the old man. I thought for sure he had lost whatever was left of his mind. Said I, “Are you going to be okay Mr. West?”

　

        “I told you not to worry boy,” he began without a condescending tone, “Everything is going to be fine, see that? Didn’t I tell you these storms have been happening for all my life and yours? It’s no problem.”

　

        I was aghast, as he really seemed to think there was nothing wrong. I said, “What the devil are you talking about? The house is burned to a crisp, the cat’s gone and the farm is flooded,” I was almost breathless.

         He looked at me, winked, took a puff from that pipe and said, “I know, but the storm’s gone ain’t it?”

                                                             End.