Building closed

was the hand made sign taped to the glass door of my primary physician's office. I was due for an appointment to receive a consultation on a pelvic examination that I completed last week. California is still battling the storm front that arrived a few days ago, leaving in it's wake, no electricity, closed schools and businesses. Upon entering the facility parking lot, it was completely empty of cars. Number one indicator telling me that they weren't open for business. I guessed that they wouldn't know how to call me with having no electricity. The grey ominous skies and heavy rains were still hanging around and the brunt of it would be here in a few hours. I had to drive the perilous highway to San Mateo and visit my RAtologist. Getting there was half of the problem with the recent and current rains creating havoc on Highway 101. With a few inches of standing water, vehicles were hydroplaning and throwing off an exorbitant amount of water on, often times, other vehicles. People were still driving way too fast for their own good. After giving my monthly blood allotment and making sure my certification papers for my returning to work was in order, I had the arduous task of driving back home. The grey skies had grown darker, winds gusting and the rain streamed steadily down from the clouds. Traffic had tripled due to the rush hour and luckily had slowed down causing everyone to drive at a snail's pace. A sea of red brake lights illuminated the darkness, drivers content in their metal tube on wheels, listening to their music or chatting on their phones, protecting them from the elements outside. How did the caveman survive? As I approached my home, it was like a war zone. Garbage cans and recycle bins were strewn everywhere, a thick padding of pine needles, leaves and greenery adorned the streets like a homemade carpet and fallen heavy branches and the force of the strong winds, ripped and torn away from it's mate, lay in a mangled clump of wetness. What power mother nature has. In her most awesome of fury, unbridled, we are diminutive in her wake.