Riding the Winds of Storm Darragh

So, we thought it would be a brilliant idea to head to the coast for a weekend getaway before the holidays. You know, clear our heads, breathe in the sea air, maybe have one of those magical family bonding moments you see in movies. Instead, we were greeted by Storm Darragh, a moody, overdramatic guest who made sure our little escape was… memorable.

It was the four of us: Bjorn (a.k.a. Mr. Overprepared), Ilias, Rebecca, and me. Picture it, standing on the beach, freezing winds whipping at us from all directions, with the sea looking like it was auditioning for a disaster movie. The children? They loved it. They flew across the sand like they’d just been unleashed from captivity, screaming and laughing while Bjorn and I shuffled along like two very cold, very tired parents who may have already regretted this idea.

Bjorn spent half the time messing with his bag, which apparently contained the secret to surviving the apocalypse, while I tried to convince myself that this was “refreshing” and not just absolutely freezing. I mean, I could barely feel my face, but hey, I was definitely “clearing my head,” right?

The thing is, there’s something oddly calming about standing in the middle of all that chaos. The wind is screaming, the waves are crashing, and you realize that all your holiday stress—gifts, family gatherings, the endless to-do lists, really isn’t that big of a deal. The sea has this way of putting you in your place, reminding you that it’s been doing its thing for millions of years, and your little problems don’t even register.

By the time we trudged back to the house, cheeks red, hair destroyed, and sand in places sand shouldn’t be, I actually felt lighter. Sure, it wasn’t the serene getaway I’d pictured, but it was exactly what we needed.

So now, we’re heading into the holidays with a new mantra: If we can survive Storm Darragh, we can survive anything. Bring on the chaos. We’re ready. Well, as long as Bjorn packs the right bag.