Tiny Stories

I wake early, the waves crashing outside my window. It is early morning, and the salt-sprayed double-glazing struggles to keep the sound out. It is overwhelming, thunderous yet rhythmic, like the train that no longer runs on the track, its bridge destroyed by the cyclone. I open the doors and look into the sky, littered with stars, a lone truck or seabird punctuating the inhalations of the sea. This blog is “Tiny Stories” but there has been no room to write, no incentive. All the stories have been big: Gabrielle, bringing destruction and heart-break; weddings and funerals, laced with sorrow and joy; rising prices and frugal habits. The safety net is torn, and people are retracting. Or fighting. Energy wasted on competing when collaboration is the key. Library books on grief and poetry collections litter my house: the words a comfort for me and those I tend to. Lucy Hone , New Zealand’s own resilience expert; a tiny guide to sit in the palm of your hand or gift to a friend who need

“Have you got sun over there today?” he asks, texting from Taupo. “Not if shadows are a measure of sunshine” I reply, the cloud cover keeping the rays hidden from us. My friend used to live an easy two hour's drive away, the state highway now a mass of crevasses and broken bridges, an impossible journey. The ground closer to home is both vibrant and sodden, silt and rotting vegetables in contrast to our normally parched summer landscape. Sunshine is what we need here in Hawke’s Bay, the idyllic region devastated by Cyclone Gabrielle. The fruit bowl of New Zealand, the resort town, the Art Deco hub, a destination for wedding parties and retirees. Too much water, in too little time, has wreaked havoc, taking lives, destroying livelihoods. Heavy rain on my roof nearly a fortnight after the event has me on edge, the adrenalin pumping through my body. I dream of throwing bags into my tiny car, of searching fruitlessly for my passport, of forgetting important things. Yet I am lucky –