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  • During Hurricane Bob I was maybe ten, at the shore, riding the plastic jetty with my cousin. Up and down with the huge waves. A woman tried to bring her dog on the floating boat launch, but the pup fell in the water and swam desperately back to shore.

    I was 4 years old during Hurricane Gloria. A tree fell on our house. I was in my mom’s closet playing with knitting needles.

    Again, with knitting needles, I sit here in my treehouse. Hurricane Sandy. The wind shakes the third floor apartment, slams the old window panes, scaring the turtle. Or maybe just me.

    And on the front porch, warm sharp gusts. A neighbor’s gutter is clanking down the street, and then a plastic pink egg carton. Car alarm. Lights flicker. The full moon peeks in and out of the rushing clouds.
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