After separating from Addison, I made my way back to Teton Valley Idaho, where the skies are endless and expansive, and you can watch weather patterns roll in from many miles away, well before they reach you. 

One evening, as I was wrestling with painful feelings, I decided to step outside to get some air, and realized one of the dark, massive, churning clouds I had been watching all day had finally descended upon us.

Before I went to sleep that night, I wrote this poem:

Another Hour Has Blown Away

The heat expands over me

as the sun beats down.

Fans turn their blades to keep me cool.

My heart contracts within me

I am breathing through the pain

as the weather starts to turn.

And just as I step outside,

wondering how I’ll get through the next hour

I see a shadow growing on the horizon

as though being exorcised from the Earth by the sun’s rays.

The darkness expands over me,

a monstrous, churning cloud bank,

and the rain is unleashed

carried in on fierce winds

the drops hitting the roof of my bus so hard

it sounds like ice.

I run to get back inside

though the wind pushes against me,

and tries to wrench the door from its hinges.

Once inside, I wait 

feeling my tiny home shudder

watching cardboard boxes and paint brushes

scurry over the driveway

heedless of a destination.

And before I know it,

another hour has been blown away.

Thanks for reading this, and I hope you are well…

Love,

Jahnavi