Our neighborhood near Boston made it through Irene relatively unscathed (a large tree toppled over in a front yard just around the corner, another tree is down across the river path near our house, and the water levels in the river are high, but we never lost power).
I do have friends who lost power, and some are still without it — but everyone seems to be relatively unscathed.
My thoughts today are with our neighbors to the north in Vermont, who are experiencing terrible flooding. I keep thinking about the old covered bridges that were washed away by the storm. I guess the bridges are a metaphor for the graceful things we care about and hold onto, the things that represent our connection to the past. All gone in a wild wind and a raging river.
But we have much to be thankful for, and I’ll hold onto that.