Bringing Our Boats In: Nica Nugget #92

Last weekend’s weather forecast called for a severe storm. Fishermen brought their boats in.

The severe storm missed us, lashing out at El Salvador to the north of us instead. But our waves were big and loud. And our high tide was very high.

The rains came and the brown of landscape turned a glorious riotous green.

Workers with machinery arrived at the estuary and punched a channel out from the river to the sea. So the river could easily flow with the rains and not get all choked up.

A cut was made in the sand so the river could empty into the sea.

In my home country, the United States, the forecast is dire. People of color have been mistreated, killed and incarcerated for far too too long. Yes, that’s the side that I am on.

In my own heart, the forecast is less dire. My father has died while I couldn’t be at his side. My tears fall like the rain and if I could I would fling my arms and stomp my feet and throw things.

In the world, the Pandemic and its economic maladies cut paths of discriminate devastation. A storm without an end game. A storm with brand new rules. A storm which makes us fear each other. And which makes us want to scream and scream and scream.

Small fishing boats were pulled up on shore for protection from the storm.

We are the storms. The storms are we.

We need to cut channels out to the sea so that as the rain fills us and rises over our banks we don’t get all choked up.

We need to be like the fishermen of Nicaragua. We need to bring our boats in.

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