How does one live through the storms of life? The simple answer: watch carefully and take shelter.
Walking with my husband along the site of the old Pitt Street Bridge in the Old Village of Mount Pleasant (SC), we are overcome by the intensity of the sky. Standing on the pier where the inter-coastal waterway and tidal creeks and Charleston Harbor meet, the sky opens wide before us. We are standing on the edge of the earth.
Looking across the creeks to Sullivans Island, the chartreuse marsh grass and white beach houses pop against the darkening sky.
Turning and facing the Charleston-side, the water reflects the ferociousness of the clouds. The air is heavy–expectant. Clouds darken, threaten but still no rain.
Suddenly, across the water, the cloud overflows and gray streams of water pour from it. We watch carefully timing our escape.
As the rain moves across the harbor toward the tip of the peninsula of Charleston, the sun fights through the massing clouds and bathes the Holy City in light. We race down the pier to the car rain spitting into our faces.
Safe in the car, we watch through the windows as the storm transforms the landscape.
The crisp snap of colors melt together like a watercolor smudged and smeared with too much water.
Driving through the flooded streets of the Old Village with windshield wipers racing, we turn onto Coleman Boulevard–less than a mile away from the onslaught–and silence. The clouds are just beginning to gather and darken. The sun still peaks through an opening in the clouds.
We know what is coming. We just lived through it. We head for home and for shelter.