"Paula" Journal 4

This is a passage from the last section of the memoir "Paula" that I really like, especially after having to write my own "weather" journal. It compares Allende's divorce to the storm and then the cleansing of it afterward.

"That night, the storm broke that had been building up all day, one of those infamous thunder-and lightning tropical downpours that turn Caracas into a disaster zone: storm sewers back up, streets flood, traffic forms a series of gigantic serpents of stalled automobiles, and mud slides wipe out whole slums on the hillsides. When finally the truck of our divorce pulled away, followed by the children on their way to install their father in his new home, and I was alone in the house, I threw open the windows and doors to let the wind and rain blow in to sweep away the past; I began to dance and whirl like a maddened dervish, weeping with sadness for what was lost and laughing with relief for what was gained, while crickets and tree frogs sang outside, and inside the torrential rain streamed across the floor and the gale blew dead leaves and bird feathers in a whirlwind of farewells and freedom." (Allende 297)

I like that she incorporated the weather into her writing because the weather affects how each and every one of us feel inside and out. It's almost as if the storm had anticipated Allende and her husband's divorce, which makes the story seem even more unrealistic than it already seemed to be. This proves that things are true in different ways in different perspectives, meaning maybe it did not actually happen at that exact time but to Allende as she was writing this story, believed that the storm did come at that exact time.

I like how comfortable Allende is when she writes. I feel as though every single thing she is thinking about does not change as she puts them down, meaning she is not censoring herself but simply allowing herself to express freely. I struggle with being free and that's the reason why I like how Allende expresses herself. I felt really awkward and out of place when I read this passage, but it's quite provoking that I was able to feel myself being Allende while also cringing the entire time reading it. "That night we made love slowly, serenely, exploring maps and highways as if we had all the time in the world for our journey..." (303)