Running Through a Hurricane

Somedays I want to run headlong into a hurricane,

despite the driving rain and gale force winds I’ll face along the way.

Those gale force winds stealing my breath with every inhale.

The driving rain blinding my path and searing my body,

until my lungs are saturated with fire.

I’ll struggle on my way,

despite nature’s attempt to force me backward.

Backward towards forward.

I’ll pick myself up and fight my way forward.

Forward towards backward.

Until I reach the centre, where I'll find peace

in the eye of my grandmother’s kitchen.

On a Sunday night,

when the families have all gone to their separate homes.

When the dishes are all cleaned and put away.

When it’s just the two of us enjoying a cup of tea

and slice of her famous gingerbread,

or a tea biscuit,

or whatever treat she made that weekend.

Then she’ll tell me,

with a smile on her face and a tear in her eyes,

just what life was like,

in her version

of the good old days.

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Written for the "grandma's kitchen" prompt in the FB group Vocal * Voices in Minor.