Into each life a little rain must fall.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Rainy Day
After emerging triumphantly from weeks and weeks of unending toil and turmoil, I enjoyed two perfect days in a bubble of relief, contentment, and yes, happiness.
Bubbles, alas, were meant to burst.
In hindsight, perhaps that sphere of calm was merely the eye of this new hurricane.
In the morning I face yet another storm - one that started brewing last Friday and gained strength and momentum over the weekend.
I am old enough to understand and accept that the rain falls on the just and unjust alike, and that fate is as fickle as the weather. Much as I would like to tailspin into a personal tropical depression, in crisis situations one does not have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. There are hatches to be battened down, sails to be furled.
My halcyon days, it seems, are few, and they are numbered.
As this new tempest was gathering speed over yet another lost weekend, a colleague marveled and asked how I was able to cope with the howling winds, the lashing rains, the gigantic waves that threatened to capsize our little ship.
To that, I take a line from Ripley's clone in Alien : Resurrection, and simply say:
I wonder how many storms were made for us.
I wonder how many storms we were made to weather.
I die a thousand deaths with each of these maelstroms.
I guess the trick is to keep on dying, until one is well and truly dead.
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost, Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening