Woah doggy was it scary. I woke up one morning about 3 to the sound of bullet puncturing rain, luminescent strikes of lightning so constant that my heart nearly missed a meat and thunder bolts so painstakingly loud that the explosions of my fear rippled long after each blast had past. Our entire crew was worried as the weather predicted tornadoes and thus the nightly terrors of this storm drove us to seek shelter.We scrambled to the bathroom and resisted the temptations of succumbing to our inner paranoia. And then the night ended… We walked through the park the next morning to see what havoc nature could rain upon the land. Much to our dismay, there was destruction. Erosion eroding trails, trampled structures strewn about.The sad thoughts of this park’s past jolted through my consciousness. A fiery destruction only months ago and now a proper cherry for this talk of destruction. “Hell and high water,” as I heard it put. I find myself now with a glimpse of inspiration. To know myself as an agent of change, comparative to that of a white blood cell. I will heal this park and help the land recover, all the while living the simple blessing of life. How lucky and serendipitous do my days find their path.