Two Hundred and Thirty-Three Reasons

The city of brotherly love was peaceful until one morning, an impending hurricane was broadcasted.

It took one more day for this warning to sink in

then two more days to spread the bitter news to the populace.

In three hours, the weather forecasters had to rally around

to ensure that they had accurately tracked the path of the hurricane.

Then the emergency response department had five days to prepare as

Ms. Sandy was expected to hit in eight days.


On the morning of the hurricane,

I realized that I had less than thirteen hours to prepare.

After church, I scurried to the grocery store

and oblivious to the extent of the crowd,

I began to wiggle to the music in the background,

stilettos on my foot, cart moving at lightning speed between the aisles

as I grabbed almost everything off the shelves.

I intended to buy twenty-one items

but ended up with over thirty-four.


When I got to the queue,

I noticed how calm the fifty-five-or-so people in the store were.

Maybe it was because I had only experienced one hurricane,

but this African girl was not going to take chances with some crazy winds

that could roar at speeds up to eighty-nine miles per hour.

As I was about to curse the hurricane for making me spend close to

one hundred and forty four dollars on groceries,

I realized that I had two hundred and thirty three reasons to be grateful because

as a broke college student, there’s nothing more invigorating

than to have enough food to last an entire week

after hosting a hurricane sleepover.