The great storm of '87 is etched in my memory. I woke to the sound of our garden fence performing somersaults down the street. The huge oak tree had stood in the park for over a hundred years. It lay fallen. Its roots reached skyward like grasping fingers.
Our local sports centre was torn into tatters by the wind. It would take years before the swimming pool was repaired and back in working order.
School was cancelled, which seemed like a miracle at first. But then we saw the real impact - roads blocked, power lines down, neighbours helping neighbours clear debris. Mrs. Johnson from next door had her greenhouse scattered across three gardens. For weeks afterward, people would start conversations with "Where were you when...?"
Memoir Prompt
Write about where you were during the Storm of October 1987, and what you remember most vividly.
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Was it sound or movement that woke you?
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Did you feel fear? Awe? Disbelief?
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What did you see in the morning—fallen limbs, neighbours consoling each other, dawn light through broken branches?
- Describe the most dramatic weather event you've experienced. How did it affect your community?
Reflection Starters
Use your journal to deepen the moment:
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Senses: What did the wind sound like? What scents, wet wood, turf, smoke, were in the air the next day?
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Emotions: Were you anxious, curious, numb? Who were you with, and what did they do?
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Meaning: Did the storm make you think differently about safety, nature, or home?
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Legacy: Looking back, what did that night show you about your resilience, community, or the fragility of certainty?
Sometimes, the most ordinary nights become landmarks in our personal histories. This storm wasn’t just weather—it was a shared rupture, a night that shifted how we memoried time and place.
