Threading the Needle
We were driving north from Georgia on I-75 when we got the notification that there were severe storms and tornado watches along our route home. My mind’s eye flashed to the tornados that devastated the western part of our home state just a few weeks ago. Damn, can’t we catch a break? I thought to myself. But no, the climate is changing. There won’t be any breaks. Just more wildfires, more smoke-choked towns, more severe events, more devastation.
Michael was sitting in the passenger seat and pulled up the radar while I drove.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked, “Do I need to pull over?”
“No, it looks like we’re going to thread the needle. There’ll be storms on both sides, but as long as we stay on track, we’ll drive through the milder parts.” He responded.
Up ahead, the clouds formed a massive shelf that blocked out the sky. They were a deep ominous blue and flat on the bottom, belying the swirls and shapes above that curled up to the heavens. The rain wasn’t pelting our windshield yet, but it was only a matter of time. The sinister cloud tendrils seemed to reach out and beckon us closer.
I wondered if we could thread the needle of the dangers we would face on the future of this warming planet. Against all human instinct in my brain screaming to take cover, we drove on, closer and closer to the oncoming storm.
