Irene

"You gotta put it in at an angle" he says as he picks up the screw that dropped from my hand and holds it in the proper position as I align my electric drill and push it through the wood in one smooth motion. Demonstration understood, I proceed with my handful of screws and new found talent of using a tool more powerful than a hammer and continue to seal up the Upper Staff Cabins while the sun filters through the trees and the cicada's hum in the distance. We haven't had a hurricane in New England for about 20 years, as long as you don't count Earl, and that was a pitiful excuse of a rainstorm. This one though; this one is a tiny bit more intimidating and after screwing shut the last window shutter, I make my way to the small group of people huddled in the middle of the gravel path.

"Are you guys all set? Did Jimmy leave you a generator?" Ed asks as I load up my tools in the cubby of the golf cart.

"Yes, he bought me a small one to run the sump pump if we lose power. It will tie us over until he gets home. Are you all ready?" Mom asks, leaning against a tree trunk.

"Yeah, I installed the switch for our generator last night."

And I sit there, listening to them talk about plans and reassuring all of us that everything will be okay and I think about how grateful I am to be a part of the ward family and to be able to lean on others and allow them to lean on me. I think about how safe I am, even though the storm is starting to pick up and the wind will be howling soon, because of the people who surround me here. And I think about New Hampshire and how much I love being a New Englander: bred to meet every kind of weather head on without blinking twice. Nothing phases us here-we just prepare and hunker down and say our prayers.

So tonight, in true New England form, we will prepare and hunker down and say our prayers and ride out the storm. The sun will come out after. It always does.

Wish us luck. See you all on the other side.